


Passing Through the Valley

by TCRegan



Series: Ascension of the Wolf [4]
Category: Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-05
Updated: 2015-03-13
Packaged: 2018-03-16 11:45:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 26,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3487076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TCRegan/pseuds/TCRegan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Following the events at Adamant Fortress, the Inquisition prepares for a ball at Empress Celene's Winter Palace.</p>
<p>Meanwhile, Fenris and Dorian face complications that will test their resolve, and their love for one another.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome back to Part 4. This is sadly the shortest part of Ascension, but hopefully just as satisfying. Again the idea for the title goes to my lovely Vee, and credit where it's due, stems from this rather fitting quote for this part:
> 
> "There is no easy walk to freedom anywhere, and many of us will have to pass through the valley of the shadow of death again and again before we reach the mountaintop of our desires." - Nelson Mandela
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Fenris woke slowly, a warm heavy weight on his chest and shoulder. He looked down at the top of Dorian's head, felt his slow, even breathing as he continued to sleep. They were on light duty for the last three weeks due to Fenris's injuries, and hadn't left Skyhold since their return. Anders, swept up in his own tempest of paperwork and overseeing many details of the Inquisition, still found time to see to Fenris, for which both he and Dorian were grateful. 

He finally found a mirror, procuring one from Quartermaster Morris, and affixed it over their dresser for convenience. He'd winced at his own reflection. A deep, thick scar ran from his hairline down to his left eyebrow, and several smaller ones decorated his cheek. If he parted his hair, he could see the scar continuing into his scalp, and Anders warned that while they might fade, he would likely always have them. The other minor cuts and bruises healed with time and magic, but he could imagine what he'd looked like when they first returned from the Western Approach. Because it was always so cold in Skyhold, he justified wearing a woolen cloak and hood when he walked the grounds, not wanting to draw stares.

Dorian shifted, one leg coming up and over Fenris's, and he felt Dorian's cock, half-hard and pressing against his thigh through the thin fabric of the silk bottoms he wore. He reached up with his right hand – his left still largely useless, though his did regain some feeling in his fingertips – and gently touched Dorian's cheek. Dorian sighed, eyes flickering behind their lids, no doubt having a pleasant dream, and Fenris didn't care to wake him. He liked to watch Dorian like this, calm and unguarded. Not putting on airs or trying to make a show. Though Fenris liked that too, finding it amusing especially when others weren't quite sure what to make of the boisterous mage from Tevinter. For all that Dorian claimed it didn't bother him what people thought of him down here, Fenris knew better.

And they were going to Orlais soon, which would only cause an increase in the bravado, the grandstanding. Fenris knew that no matter where he went, he would always be an elf, used to the scorn that humans had for his race. Whether Tevinter, Ferelden, or Orlais, he was just a knife-ear. His position in Skyhold afforded him respect he never thought he would be worthy of. And while Dorian was comfortable enough here, judgments and nasty comments from those who didn't know him were flung about due to his nationality. At least, he thought, they were hushed quickly due to his friendship with Anders. And those who did know him rightfully respected and even adored him. Fenris would have been jealous, but no matter how much attention Dorian garnered, at the end of the day, they went to bed together.

Dorian sighed, a quiet moan escaping his lips as he rocked against Fenris, who blushed slightly. A very good dream, then. Since their night together in Griffon Wing Keep where Dorian got on his knees for him, they hadn't done anything else but shared a few kisses every day, falling into bed exhausted from their work in Skyhold. Despite the loss of use of his arm which he kept in a sling, Fenris still continued to help with the walls and the construction of other structures inside the castle. He carried baskets full of supplies, tools, or food, and kept the soldiers fed and watered. While someone else would have said it was shameful he'd been reduced to doing the work of a Chantry sister, there was no shortage of need for hands. Even if he could only provide one. He was still working, still doing what he could. As was Dorian.

"Fenris," Dorian muttered, lips pressed to Fenris's bare chest, somewhere between sleep and awake now.

Dorian worked with the other mages to improve their abilities, and with Fiona, who he spoke to regularly. Fenris knew that Fiona kept in touch with Alexius, the letters coming weekly from him and Felix. Fenris did his best to improve on his writing and reading, though he knew his script would never be as beautiful and flowing as Dorian's, the letters big, blocky, and slanted. But Felix wrote legibly at least, and Fenris enjoyed reading about his courtship to Livia, that there would likely be a wedding in a year or two. So much planning, he wrote, but he sounded thrilled. And Fenris was pleased when Felix demanded both he and Dorian be present when it happened.

"Are you awake?" Fenris asked quietly.

"Mm. Was having a dream," Dorian yawned, dragging his hand from Fenris's chest down to his stomach. "You and I were on a beach together. White sand and blue water. It was warm and we were sipping drinks with ice and little umbrellas."

Fenris laughed. He knew how much Dorian hated the cold, even more than he did. There was only so much the warming enchantments could do, the stone walls always freezing, and every few days Fenris noticed there was another blanket added to their bed. Dorian of course was like an inferno himself, a personal heater for Fenris. It helped that Dorian always seemed to like to wrap himself around Fenris at night and they often woke in a tangle of limbs.

"You dislike the ocean."

"Oh I don't mind if it it's calm," Dorian said, his fingers dancing lazy patterns on Fenris's stomach, following the lyrium lines without quite touching them. He pressed a kiss to his chest, Fenris feeling the bristling of his mustache. "Besides, the idea of making love on a beach is so romantic. We ought to consider it at least once."

"Perhaps we should," Fenris agreed. "The waters surrounding Seheron are beautiful."

"A proper holiday once all this is done. We'll save our gold from the little jobs our dear Inquisitor has us going on. You know he hired a Qunari mercenary group? Do you know how much they're getting paid?"

Fenris hummed quietly as Dorian's hand moved lower. "I hadn't heard. What are you…"

"How are you feeling?" Dorian asked, fingertips playing now at the ties to Fenris's bottoms. He plucked the string, untying the knotted bow.

"…Well."

Dorian kissed his chest, sliding over to lie fully on top of him now, straddling his thighs as he leaned up to nuzzle his neck. "Well enough?"

Fenris tilted his head back, a contented noise like a purr escaping his lips. "For what?"

"Physical exertion," Dorian whispered against his ear.

He rolled his hips forward and Fenris gasped, his own cock springing to life with the contact. "Oh."

"Yes," Dorian hissed, nipping his earlobe. "Oh indeed."

"I want…"

"Tell me," Dorian said, hips grinding once more against him.

Fenris let out a shaking breath, shivering in pleasure at the contact. He would have asked for Dorian's mouth once more, but it was hardly fair, was it? He wouldn't have minded returning the favor, to give Dorian that same pleasure. It wouldn't be anything like it had been with Danarius. This wasn't an act of submission, of slavery, of giving in. It was giving and taking of equal pleasure. And Dorian had been so patient with him, though Fenris was sure he wanted to move forward.

"Have you… ever taken someone?" Fenris asked, curious.

Dorian laughed, but it was light, gentle, and he kissed Fenris on the forehead before scooting back. He pressed another kiss to his breastbone, moving to capture a nipple between his teeth, nipping sharply. Fenris jumped.

"Yes," Dorian said, licking apologetically at the hardened nub. "And I've had it the other way too, before you ask. But I'm not going to compare you to my former lovers and I'll thank you to extend the same courtesy. It doesn't matter what happened before." He nipped again, gently this time, and sucked hard, tongue flicking against it.

Fenris groaned, his good hand coming up to the back of Dorian's hand, fingers threading through his hair. "I just… wonder if you would prefer to do more."

"Of course I would," Dorian said. "I don't think I could ever get enough of you. But that doesn't mean I'm going to push. I would be a rude and selfish lover. I've been accused of being a great many things, Fenris, but being inconsiderate in bed is not one." He rolled his hips again. "So… tell me what you want."

Fenris licked his lips, looking up at Dorian now, hovering over him. "Your mouth. And I would return the act after."

Dorian's smile was more of a sly smirk as he slid slowly lower. Fenris's breath hitched in anticipation, dark fingers curling at the waistband of his trousers.

Someone knocked on the door.


	2. Chapter 2

It wasn't that the interruption happened; that was an annoyance Fenris would have been able to deal with. A morning tray of breakfast brought up by some courteous squire or kitchen worker, and Dorian would have returned to bed after thanking them and locking the door. But it was Anders, who apologized profusely, especially after taking in their disheveled states. If it wasn't a serious matter, he would have waited to see them, perhaps meeting them for lunch in the tavern or calling them to his quarters, where his desk sat overflowing with paperwork. That he was hand-delivering a letter to Dorian bode ominous.

"…Thank you," Dorian said after a terse, quiet conversation that Fenris couldn't hear from his spot on the bed.

"I'll come with you if you want," Fenris heard Anders say.

"I appreciate that. I'll let you know."

They said goodbye and Dorian shut the door, holding a letter in a slightly shaking hand. Fenris got awkwardly out of bed, left arm dangling somewhat uselessly at his side. He crossed the small space to the door and touched his shoulder.

"My father," Dorian said before Fenris could ask, "has taken it upon himself to write to Mother Giselle regarding me." His tone indicated exactly what he thought about that.

"Why would he write to her?" Fenris asked, taking the letter from Dorian, easing it from his fist. "They don't exactly respect the southern Chantry back home."

"No," Dorian said acidly, moving toward their dresser. He started pulling out clothing, everything in his movement betraying his irritation. "But he knows what she represents. It's familiar. So of course he would write to her and not to someone who actually knows me." He kept his back to Fenris, shoulders hunched as he gripped the top of the dresser.

Fenris looked down at the letter, squinting to make out the looping handwriting. "And Mother Giselle told Anders?"

"He's at his wit's end," Dorian muttered. "He needs to take his 'alarm' and shove it up his wit's end."

Fenris sighed, not sure he would be able to calm Dorian down from this. But if anyone were going to comfort Dorian, it would be him. He just wasn't sure how to do it. "What does it say?" he asked, giving up trying to decipher the penmanship.

Dorian took a deep breath and turned around, leaning back against the dresser, arms crossed, body stiff with anger. "He's sent a family retainer to… well the letter was vague but I expect it was to knock me on the head and drag me home. Quite a change from what he said the night we left, wouldn't you say?"

Fenris remembered. Shouting in Alexius's house, Dorian and Halward yelling at one another, and the parting words. He felt guilty though he knew he shouldn't have. He didn't force Dorian to leave, after all. "I wouldn't let that happen."

Dorian's mustache twitched; almost a smile. "No, you wouldn't, would you? But I can't allow you to come to harm either, especially if it means you putting yourself between my father and I. We… that night you saw us? That was us talking. Or the most we talked in a long time. I remember… he used to be a good man, Fenris."

Fenris went to him now, putting the letter down on the desk, and embraced him awkwardly with his good arm, fingers of his left twitching. Dorian let out a breath and took him around the waist, holding him close.

"Perhaps I should have spent more time with him," Dorian muttered. "I spoke often about Alexius. I wonder if he was ever jealous. But I loved… love my father. I suppose that present tense is appropriate, even if I am angry with him." He paused, kissing Fenris's forehead. "Anders is coming with me."

Fenris hesitated. "And so will I."

Dorian released him, and Fenris stepped back, frowning. He watched Dorian's gaze drop to the ground, shifting uncomfortably.

"Dorian?"

"Perhaps it would be best if you stayed here while Anders and I went."

Fenris felt as if a rock dropped into his stomach, cold and heavy. There it was. Dorian was ashamed of him. He didn't want to bring him to meet his father in order to avoid a confrontation. Fenris was good enough to be shown around the Inquisition as Dorian's lover, where no one truly cared who slept with whom, but when it came to Magister Halward Pavus…

"It's not what you're thinking."

Fenris scowled and stepped further away, not sure if he wanted to even be in the same room with Dorian right now. He turned away from him.

"When I tell this retainer that I refuse to go back, he'll want to know why."

"And you don't want to tell him that you've taken an elf as a lover."

" _Vishante Kaffas_ let me finish!"

"Do it quickly," Fenris said, turning back to push past him, yanking a shirt out of his drawer. He flicked it open with one hand and started to dress awkwardly.

Dorian reached for it, having helped Fenris dress for the last few weeks, lightly teasing him but not minding in the least. Fenris pulled away, glaring.

"Stubborn."

Fenris felt his anger double.

"I _will_ tell them why and I will say it proudly," Dorian said. "But if you're there with me, you will suffer insult. Depending on who this retainer is, you'll be identified as a servant of Alexius, my father will know, and he will… say horrible things."

Fenris almost laughed. "Say horrible things? Do you think I care about what's said about me?"

" _I_ care," Dorian said gently. "He has no right to say anything about you. Or us." He held the shirt up, collar open, and Fenris nodded. Carefully he drew it over Fenris's head and helped maneuver his left arm into the sleeve. "I'm not ashamed of you. I'm ashamed of what my father would say about you. To you. I don't want to give him the opportunity to hurt you. I care about you too much."

Fenris let Dorian straighten the shirt and do up the buttons and ties before running a hand through his hair. "It doesn't matter to me. I want to be by your side to support you. You can't take Anders and leave me here."

Dorian smiled sadly. "You know how tricky these things are."

"They're not, though," Fenris insisted. They started to dress for the day, any hope of a quiet, peaceful morning gone with the arrival of the letter. He allowed Dorian help him with the things that required the use of two hands, feeling more like an invalid now than he had in the last few weeks. "You said you wouldn't change your mind. That you would rather have me than all the comforts Tevinter could give you."

"And I meant every word."

"Then we'll tell this retainer that. And Maker damn what he has to say to me. If someone's going to insult me, I'd rather it be to my face."

"So you can tear their heart from their chest?" Dorian asked, quirking an eyebrow.

Fenris grunted, pulling on his boots. Dorian knelt at his feet and started to tie up the laces. He smiled up at him.

"I suppose I could restrain myself. For you," Fenris said, grudgingly.

Dorian leaned up and kissed him. "I'd appreciate that. After all, we don't want to kill the messenger."

"When do we leave?"

Dorian sighed, moving to the mirror that hung over the dresser and started to fix his hair. "This afternoon, I expect, unless Anders has other obligations to keep him here." He paused. "I suppose this means Hawke is coming as well."

"Have you see Hawke leave Anders' side since Haven?"

"…Point."

Fenris stood, pulling the sling for his arm from a hook on the wall. Dorian helped him adjust it and wrapped his cloak around him, tying it in place. Fenris reached to pull his hood up, but Dorian stopped him.

"Leave it down. Unless you're truly bothered by the cold."

"I…"

"You're gorgeous, Fenris. Scars and all." Dorian brushed his hair out of his eyes, then laced his fingers at the back of Fenris's neck. "You got those saving my life. And if anyone says anything about them, I'll simply remind them that jealousy is an ugly trait, and they should find their own brave elven warrior to protect them."

Fenris laughed, shaking his head incredulously. "Very well. Hood down."

"Good. After all, everyone should get to gaze upon the handsome elf as he escorts me to breakfast."

Fenris smirked, and followed Dorian out.


	3. Chapter 3

Redcliffe was much the same as Fenris remembered it, though he had no real fond memories after what happened there with Danarius. The roads through the Hinterlands were clear, Inquisition soldiers greeting them as they rode through, Fenris more comfortable once again on the back of Dorian's horse rather than his own. He noticed how many people saluted as they passed or rather, when Anders passed, and the general feeling of excitement was palpable in the town when they approached the gates. Horses stabled, Anders turned to Dorian.

"Do you want us to go in with you?"

Dorian took a breath, looking out over the town, eyes falling on the Gull and Lantern. "No. I don't want it to appear that I've joined the Inquisition out of spite. But I wouldn't say no to getting heavily drunk after this. I'm sure it will be necessary."

Anders nodded with a slight smile. "We'll be waiting by the docks. I have a few things I need to look into while we're here anyway. Dinner's my treat after."

Dorian tried to return the smile, but faltered. They said their goodbyes, Anders and Hawke heading down the hill. Fenris touched Dorian's hand, then took it, squeezing.

"I'm all right."

"Is that why you're not moving?" Fenris asked lightly.

"I'm preparing myself."

A minute passed. Fenris sighed and tugged on his hand, pulling him into the town proper, toward the tavern.

"You're a cruel person, Fenris," Dorian sighed, standing in front of the door. "All right. Let's go see what this retainer wants. Are you absolutely sure you want to be here for this? It may get ugly."

Fenris looked at him dubiously. "I have traversed a horrible future, fought demons and magisters, trekked the Fade, and had my face chewed off by poisonous fear spiderlings. I believe I can handle your family's retainer."

"You don't know my father," Dorian insisted. "The man he sent will be awful."

Rolling his eyes, Fenris pushed into the tavern. The first thing he noticed was that it was empty, completely devoid of patron or bartender. He touched the pommel of his sword hanging at his left hip, the one-handed blade he'd been training with since his injury. The last time they were at the Gull and Lantern, it was full of Fiona's mages. Not a pleasant difference, but still better than this. This was the set up to an ambush.

"Well this doesn't bode well, does it?" Dorian asked as the door shut behind them.

"Dorian."

Fenris felt Dorian stiffen next to him as Halward Pavus came down the stairs. He looked older than Fenris remembered, still somewhat shorter, still a little weaselly, but more lines in his weathered face with strands of grey in his dark hair. Had the situation been less serious, Fenris would have teased Dorian about it, warning him that's what he had in store for himself.

"Father," Dorian said tersely. "So. The story about a family retainer was just a smokescreen? A lie to get me here?"

"…You were told, then," Halward sighed.

Fenris was surprised to see the same mannerisms in Halward that Dorian had. The cadence in his speech and peculiar pronunciations were mirrored in his father's tone. Then again, he shouldn't have been surprised, should he? After all, Felix was obviously Alexius's son; you could tell that within minutes of meeting them. It just seemed odd to Fenris with what little he knew of Halward that he'd see so much of Dorian in him.

"You think that the Inquisitor wouldn't have said anything? He's an honorable man. He wouldn't sink to trying to trick me into coming to meet you." Dorian crossed his arms, not moving further into the room, even as Halward stepped closer.

"I knew you wouldn't come otherwise."

"Yes, well. Good on you for finally understanding one tiny aspect of my thought process. Though I see you still lack the courtesy to actually respect it!"

"Dorian, I-"

"What is this exactly, Father? Ambush? Kidnapping?" He scoffed. "Warm family reunion?"

Fenris watched Halward's face fall, his expression changing not to anger, but sadness. Was it his place to say anything? To stop Dorian's diatribe and urge him to let Halward speak? Alexius thought they should talk. Perhaps he'd said something to Halward about it.

"How did you even find out where I was? What I was doing?" Dorian continued.

"Alexius wrote-"

Dorian threw up his hands in disgust. "Of course he did. That man always had more sentimentality than sense."

"I heard about what happened in Orlais and I was worried," Halward tried again.

Dorian laughed, a mocking, mirthless sound. "Oh that's rich. You were worried about me when you heard about Orlais, but you weren't worried about me when you fucking bled me!" He shoved his sleeves up savagely, the scars there thin and faded, but still visible even in the dim dusty light of the tavern.

Halward recoiled as if he'd been slapped in the face, and looked away.

"Dorian," Fenris said quietly.

"No, I think we're done," Dorian said, pulling his sleeves down. He started to turn.

"Wait," Halward said, stepping forward, one hand reaching up toward him, though nearly the entire length of the room separated them.

"What." It was a flat, dead tone of a man who was hurt beyond feeling.

Fenris ached to comfort him, to pull him close and hug him, to tell him it would be all right. But he wouldn't lie to Dorian, not even to make him feel better. He had a feeling none of this would be all right. And the way Dorian looked down, shoulders set, lips pursed, eyes narrowed… he was too livid to accept any kind of consolation. It was more likely he simply needed to hit something very hard.

"This isn't what I wanted when I came here."

"No, Father," Dorian said, turning back to him. It seemed the fight had not left him. "I was never what you wanted, was I? Just another disappointment. Well, here's something else I'm sure you'll be disappointed in: Fenris is my lover."

Fenris looked down at the floor, not wanting to see Halward's surprise or anger at the revelation. It wouldn't have been his first choice in how Dorian told his father. But it was out in the open now, and there was no taking it back. He finally looked up. Halward was not looking at him, but at Dorian.

"Dorian, I only wanted what was best for you. If I'd know that my actions would have driven you to the Inquisition…"

"I didn't join the Inquisition to get back at you! And before you even start to _think_ it because I know you will, I didn't choose to be with Fenris to do so either."

Halward's eyes did flick to Fenris briefly, but his expression was unreadable before he returned his focus to Dorian. Fenris wasn't sure what he was thinking, though he thought perhaps Dorian wasn't far from the truth of it. It helped to hear him say it, all the things he promised Fenris, how he wouldn't give him up. A very small, very tiny niggling self-doubt crept its way into Fenris's mind, however. The same thought that was there from the start. What if Dorian would be happier without him? He could go home, couldn't he? The occasional nightmare left over from the fear demons in the Fade didn't help, even as he tried to be logical about the whole thing.

"We will… talk about the elf later."

"Fenris," Dorian growled. "I've said his name twice, Father, surely you can pronounce it. And he's standing right here so you can stop talking about him like he's part of the furniture."

Halward took a breath. "I came to apologize."

Fenris blinked. The aggressiveness in Dorian's stance, the pointed finger, all faded in an instant. Replaced by distrust and bewilderment.

"To what?"

Halward took a step forward, then another. "To apologize. I betrayed your trust, Dorian. I never wanted it to go as far as it did. I should have talked to you. Not pressured you. And now that I'm here, I'm worried that I've lost my son for good."

Dorian swallowed hard and then to Fenris's surprise, he looked at him. Fenris saw the hurt there, the confusion and betrayal. But behind that there was hope. A possibility that he and his father could finally talk, maybe even reconcile. Fenris wasn't going to stand in the way of that, trusting Dorian to keep his word, no matter what.

"I'll give you your privacy," Fenris said lightly.

The relieved smile came at once, and Dorian took his hand, pulling him close, leaned down, and kissed him softly. "You have nothing to worry about," he whispered.

Fenris nodded. "I know. Talk to your father. I'll be waiting."

He allowed Dorian to kiss him once more before glanced at Halward. The man's expression betrayed nothing of what he was feeling, and Fenris left the tavern, hoping Dorian could handle this on his own.


	4. Chapter 4

Anders and Hawke were browsing the market when Fenris found them a few minutes later. The area by the docks stunk of fish and offered nothing but bad memories, but he felt more comfortable with them here than by himself elsewhere. Anders inquired after Dorian.

"His father came to see him."

"Well, shit," Anders said, looking at him with a raised eyebrow. "How did that go?"

Fenris shrugged a shoulder. "It's still going. I believe they may come to an amiable conclusion." Or at least he hoped they would.

"What's the issue anyway?" Hawke asked, leaning down to inspect the merchant's wares, several different types of seafood, only two of which Fenris could identify.

"It's… a somewhat private matter," Fenris said carefully. "Tevinter society dictates that someone of Dorian's standing should marry and produce a child."

"I can see how that would cause some problems," Anders said. "Get thirty pounds," he added to Hawke. "For the Chargers, and we'll supplement the rest with the chickens."

Hawke haggled with the merchant until Anders merely pulled out a heavy coin purse and dropped it on the wooden counter with a tired look of incredulity at Hawke. He nodded to Fenris and gestured toward one of the piers. Fenris followed.

"Hawke's used to haggling," Anders said, leading him away from the business of the merchants' stalls. He ran his fingertips over the stone wall and stepped down onto the wooden dock. "Even when he was in Kirkwall after he bought his mother's estate back from the city, he still scrimped. We both came from similar places to start. His family on the run because his sister and father were mages. And me escaping the Circle and then the Wardens."

Fenris wasn't sure why Anders was telling him this, but he didn't interrupt. Anders had started out a wild card to him, someone he wasn't sure if he could trust, a possessed mage with a penchant for blowing things up. But he proved a steadfast and loyal friend to both himself and to Dorian, and a capable fighter. He could get a little preachy and made some decisions that Fenris didn't always agree with. But Fenris didn't have the weight of Thedas on his shoulders the way Anders did.

"When he came to Kirkwall, he became someone. He had an estate and money, and if he took his mother's maiden name, he would have had a title. And when he became Champion of the city, it seemed like he… didn't need me anymore."

_Oh._

Fenris thought he understood now. Was Anders truly comparing them? Did he find so many similarities that he drew likeness from Fenris's life as a slave or a Liberati to himself? And Dorian was Hawke in the analogy, he supposed, a fact that neither man would find very amusing, he was sure.

"When I… did what I had to do in Kirkwall, I thought Hawke would leave me. He should have," Anders said, frowning. "But he refused to. So we ran. We were fugitives together, hunted. He chose that life with me instead of a life of luxury. Even now he could go back. The Inquisition holds enough sway even in the Free Marches that any crimes they could have charged him with would be swept away."

"Hawke would never leave you."

"And Dorian would never leave you."

Ah. There it was. "I know."

Anders smiled sadly. "But do you?"

Fenris frowned. "Yes. I-"

"We're alike, you and I. Of course we have a lot of differences," Anders conceded. "But the Circle, the way it was? I can't imagine what slavery was like-"

"No. You can't," Fenris said flatly. Did he really want to compare his life with Danarius to what life was like in the Circle? While he knew things were different for the southern mages, they still sounded more comfortable than what most slaves in Tevinter were put through.

Anders cleared his throat. "I only meant to say that we'll always think about what our respective lovers' lives would have been like had we never gotten involved with them, but we shouldn't dwell on it. I've spent too many sleepless nights worrying that Hawke would wise up and leave," he said, quietly, looking up to see Hawke heading their way. "I'm glad he hasn't."

"Hasn't what?" Hawke asked. "They're sending the provisions to Skyhold." He looked at Fenris. "All right? Anders not boring you?"

Anders hit him lightly, but smiled as Hawke slung an arm around his shoulders, kissing the top of his head.

"We were just talking about similarities," Fenris said, distracted.

"You both glow when you're angry, that's a start," Hawke offered.

"More like we both have to put up with insufferable lovers," Anders returned with a grin.

"Hm. I'll give you that point." He looked back to Fenris. "Hungry? Or should we wait?"

Fenris glanced back up the hill to the Gull and Lantern, which looked like any other building in Redcliffe, but appeared quieter, more ominous somehow, if only due to the knowledge of what lay beyond. He hoped Dorian was all right. "It may take some time. We should eat."

Redcliffe contained many food stalls through the market square for those who preferred not to eat in the tavern, or simply didn't have time. It was busier now than usual, as Dorian's father seemed to have rented the tavern out in anticipation of his son's arrival. And Fenris wondered how much that cost him. How rich _was_ Dorian's family? Danarius had two dwellings, one in Seheron and one in Minrathous, but most magisters kept a smaller place in the city to be closer to the senate when it was in session. He'd never looked into Alexius's affairs, not the way he knew Danarius's, but found his primary dwelling smaller than the mansion in Alam. He would have asked Dorian about his wealth, but he didn't want to pry, or seem like he was throwing it in Dorian's face what he was giving up. And of course, it didn't matter to him if Dorian was rich or poor.

Fenris chose something from a stall that produced warm Orlesian cuisine, a thin pancake-like wrap stuffed with meat and cheese and folded over to make it easier to eat by hand. He watched Anders talk to some of the villagers, listening to their daily struggles, and speak on how the Inquisition was going to help them. Nearly an hour passed before Fenris started to get truly restless, eager to see if Dorian was all right. Anders and Hawke followed him back to the tavern, and he opened the door tentatively.

The bartender was there, wiping down the counters, two or three servers taking down chairs and sweeping up. They looked up when Fenris glanced in.

"You Fenris?" the bartender asked.

"Yes," Fenris said, somewhat warily as he stepped inside.

"Got this message for you, said an elf would probably come looking, otherwise I'd have sent one of my boys to find you. Here."

Frowning, Fenris took the paper, unfolded it, and read the tidy print he knew was for his benefit. Dorian's usual script was flawless and loopy and normally hard for him to decipher.

_Fenris,_

_Don't be angry. I had to leave. I needed to be alone for a bit. I'm heading back to Skyhold and I'll see you later._

_I love you._

_-Dorian_

He crumpled the paper in his hand, grinding his teeth, trying to tamp down the anger he felt. Of course Dorian would want to be alone, but he could have told him personally instead of running off. He only hoped that Dorian made it back to Skyhold without incident.

"He went back," Fenris said finally to Anders' concerned look.

"Then I guess so do we," Anders said. "I don't have any other business in Redcliffe."

"At least until they start hounding you again for support," Hawke said.

"Just think of it like you and Kirkwall. On a much larger scale," Anders added as they returned to the horses. "Fenris, with me?"

Fenris nodded, accepting the help up onto the horse. He remained quiet as they started back to Skyhold, listening to Anders talk about the upcoming ball they would be attending in order to talk with Empress Celene, and tried not to dwell too much on his annoyance.


	5. Chapter 5

They arrived back at Skyhold late the next evening, Fenris spending one very uncomfortable night alone at one of the Inquisition's outposts on the road back. The accommodations were fine, but a pillow was a poor substitute for the warm body he'd grown used to sleeping next to. He stopped first by his shared room with Dorian, dropping off his things. Dorian wasn't there, nor had he expected him to be. He checked next in the tower, stopping briefly to chat with Solas, admiring his new fresco detailing the attack on Adamant Fortress. He was glad that Solas didn't include any art surrounding the Fade or the Nightmare.

"I wished I could have seen it," Solas said wistfully. "The Inquisitor spoke about it upon his return, but to see the physical Fade…"

"It's not something I would revisit," Fenris said flatly.

"Forgive me, I did not mean to cause you discomfort. Of course it was a harrowing experience for all involved, my apologies."

"Don't," Fenris sighed. He knew that Solas hadn't meant to imply that stepping into the Fade had been a good thing, but his natural curiosity sometimes got ahead of him when he spoke. "Have you seen Dorian? Did he come up this way?"

"Normally you two are rather inseparable," Solas noted. "He arrived earlier this morning. I believe he's in the tavern. Did… something happen?"

"Nothing that can't be fixed," Fenris said evasively. "Are you coming to the Winter Palace?" he asked, changing the subject before Solas could ask more about it.

"I believe the Inquisitor will delight in taking everyone he finds himself comfortable with. Though it will be interesting to see what the Imperial Court has to say about a handful of elves, a dwarf, and a Qunari."

"Sounds like the beginning of a poor joke," Fenris agreed.

"Indeed," Solas laughed. "I shan't keep you any longer, Fenris. I'm sure you are eager to find Dorian."

Fenris said good night and tugged his cloak more tightly around himself as it tried to slip off his left arm. The tavern at night was always busy and ale flowed for two hours free of charge thanks to the generosity of the Inquisitor. Or more likely Josephine, who implemented many morale-boosting ideas like that one. Fenris glanced around the main floor where many were gathered to talk, play cards, and listen to the minstrel who was playing an upbeat, jaunty song in Orlesian that Fenris couldn't understand. He climbed the stairs and found Dorian tucked away in a corner by himself, staring out the window, a mug of ale between his hands.

"You could have waited," Fenris said, coming to stop in front of the table.

Dorian looked up, and his expression was so pained that Fenris couldn't find it in himself to hold onto his annoyance. He sighed and sat across from him at the small table, reaching to touch his hand. Dorian took it, and turned to look out the window again.

"Are you all right?"

"No." The response was immediate, followed by a deep sigh. "I'm a bit… drunk. Easier to deal," he said. "I'm sorry I left."

"I was angry."

Dorian dropped his eyes, looking away from the window, properly berated. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine. I was. I'm no longer. Tell me what happened." It was a testament to his own feelings that he felt entitled to know what went on between Dorian and Halward, if only to help alleviate any bad feelings and comfort Dorian.

"He said… we're alike. Too much pride." Dorian scoffed, bringing the mug of ale to his lips, finally releasing Fenris's hand. He shifted, sitting up straighter. "There was a time in which I would have killed to hear him say those words. It's a shame we never talked properly before this. It's a shame I… thought him foolish. Compared him to Alexius. I apologized."

Fenris nodded, then waved over a serving girl for glass of his own, and a refill for Dorian. "Go on."

"Mother was largely the reason he pushed so hard for this. She said that if I wasn't going to cooperate, that he should take drastic action. I think she thought I was selfish. Not wanting to spend the rest of my life miserable, screaming on the inside while I wear a fake smile like she does. I suppose it is."

"You can't think that's the truth," Fenris insisted, sipping his wine.

"Isn't it? Sacrifices to be made for the greater good of the upper-class families of Tevinter, and I chose not to participate."

"You didn't choose to be born the way you are." Fenris frowned. Dorian was drunk and melancholic, and likely being pessimistic without truly believing what he was saying.

"No, but I could have married and sired an heir… somehow." He frowned at his mug and took another sip. "Perhaps by getting very drunk," he added with a laugh.

"I think that would have hampered your ability even more," Fenris said lightly. "What else was said?"

"You want to know what he thought of you." Dorian looked at him, reached over and took his hand again, easing it off the wine glass. "He said that as soon as I stopped acting foolish, I could come home, and they would find a way to 'work around' my 'predilections'. My apprenticeship to Alexius helped. Anyone looking in on my house would see that as a plus, and I might be able to get away with simply finding my own apprentice and naming _him_ my heir instead of siring one myself."

"…Acting foolish?" Fenris asked, focusing on that.

"He's displeased with my choice of lover."

Of course he would be, Fenris thought. No upper-class citizen of any country would see it as anything less than scandal. Unless of course there were no feelings involved, and the elf was simply being used. It was an accepted racism, one that Fenris usually thought nothing of. Being an elf was his place in society. But now? Now it disgusted him.

"And?" Fenris asked carefully.

"I told him that he could accept me and my choices and I would go forward with whatever plans he had regarding an apprentice and heir, but I wasn't going to give you up."

Fenris smiled, feeling a slight blush rise in his cheeks. "I bet he didn't approve of that," he said, sipping his wine.

"No he most certainly did not," Dorian agreed. "But he acknowledged it was the only way he and I would ever remain in contact. He said he was going to return to Tevinter to 'arrange a few things'. Most likely find some poor young nobleman's son and ready him for when I return." He sighed. "That's at least a task I'll take on willingly. To be a patron, to teach someone like Alexius taught me? I would be proud of that."

Fenris remembered a very long time ago, watching Dorian entertain a group of children at a party that Alexius threw. Of course the party ended very badly but that was Erimond's fault, not Dorian's. The children truly did seem to love him. "You would do well."

Dorian laughed. "Thank you. And so would you. At least, I hope you would help?"

"Help?"

"Train them the way you trained Felix. How to wield a sword. There's no reason a mage can't learn a few melee tricks after all. It would do good to shake up the status quo a bit. We might even turn it into a trend. And then the stuck up old fuddy duddies of the Magisterium would see elves for what they're worth, rather than kicking them about all the time."

"You… would risk your reputation to put forth the idea of elves training humans in combat?"

Dorian shrugged. "And why not? Tevinter needs to be turned on its head. Why shouldn't we be the ones to do it? Who else, after all? I'm already a pariah, until recently disowned by my family."

"Would you father truly accept me?" Fenris asked, voicing the last question, the last doubt that he had.

"He would come around eventually, I think," Dorian said. "As long as you didn't use the wrong fork or something devastatingly insulting."

"More insulting than sleeping with his son?"

Dorian snorted. "You," he said, leaning forward, "make me very happy. And I made sure he knew it. He doesn't want to accept it, but he will, if we give him time. Now Mother on the other hand… Well I'd like to only deal with one thing tonight so we'll leave her for another discussion."

Fenris chewed his lip thoughtfully, turning the wine glass in his hand. "The letter you wrote me-"

"Oh did that bartender give it to you? Good. I wasn't quite sure I could depend on him."

"You signed it-"

"I love you."

"Yes," Fenris said, looking up.

Dorian smiled, standing up a little shakily so he could lean across the table. He grabbed Fenris's cloak and pulled him forward, kissing him soundly, tongue pressing into his mouth, hot and insistent, and it lasted a long, long time. Fenris was breathless when it finally ended, tasting the cheap beer that Dorian was drinking on his own lips.

"I love you. And I'll say it again when I'm sober so you'll believe it. Now. Help me back to our room. I'm going to have a terrible hangover in the morning and I'd like to get as much sleep as possible before we're woken by another nasty surprise."

Fenris, unable to keep himself from grinning rather idiotically, helped Dorian to his feet and supported him on their way out, back to their room.


	6. Chapter 6

Anders was hopeless when it came to dancing, but Fenris at least amused himself by watching him try to learn. He personally had never learned how to dance, but the grace in swinging a sword came with practice and would translate well to the ballroom dancing that Josephine was currently trying to teach him. Fenris sat on one of the low wooden tables, dragging a whetstone over his sword, prepping his weapons and armor for the journey to the Winter Palace. Halamshiral was no place for an elf, not since the war started. In truth, it was no place for anyone who wasn't a fierce player in the Grand Game. More politics, Fenris thought, that would have been better off left by the wayside in favor of transparent government. After all, what good did it do to move people around like chess pieces when the poorer folk of the city suffered?

"No, it's one-two, three-four, Slow-Slow, Quick-Quick Sl – OW!" Josephine cried as Anders trod on her foot once more.

"Sorry! Hang on." Anders bent to heal Josephine's foot for the nth time that afternoon. "I'm sorry. I'm hopeless at this."

"It is quite all right, Inquisitor," she assured him. "Honestly I am not sure how many Orlesians will be willing to dance with you, all things considered." She waved at Maryden the bard, who was playing a simple tune for them to dance to. "You can stop for the moment, please."

"I suppose they're still angry over that whole chantry thing." Anders frowned. It wasn't something that was brought up regularly. No one wanted to remember how the Inquisitor, the Herald of Andraste, destroyed one of the Chantry's buildings. In an effort to try to keep the peace and move forward with the Inquisition's agenda with as little opposition as possible, Anders often refrained from bringing it up as well, at least outside of a select few.

"Or the whole Temple of Sacred Ashes thing, yes," Josephine sighed. "Well, we can pass you off as a warrior rather than a dancer and as long as you don't use the wrong titles when addressing the nobles, we should be just fine. I hope."

Her tone indicated that she wasn't so sure about that. Fenris huffed a little, and swore as his sword slid to the ground. He'd started to regain some use in his left arm but nowhere near enough to wield a blade the way he used to. Hawke, who was entering the hall from the door that led from the war room, bent down and retrieved it for him.

"Working out for you?" he asked, making no comment on his clumsiness.

Fenris took it with muttered thanks. "It's unusual. I'm used to swinging something heavier."

"I could teach you how to use a shield, too," Hawke offered.

Fenris put the whetstone aside and with some effort, managed to slide the sword into its sheath. "It wouldn't hurt to learn a new style of fighting."

"I think you'd learn quicker than Anders would learning how to ballroom dance."

"I heard that!" Anders shouted, trying not to trip once again. "I'd like to see you do better, honestly. What a load of rubbish."

Hawke looked at Fenris and winked. "Sure. Move over. Maryden, Imperial Waltz, please."

Anders huffed and fell back to lean against Fenris's table, arms crossed. "Bet he breaks her foot," he muttered.

"Five silver," Fenris said.

"You're on. Prepare to lose."

Hawke bowed gracefully to Josephine, who returned it with a curtsy. Then, to Anders' surprise and Fenris's amusement, he began to lead her in a perfect waltz around the hall. Head up, looking at Josephine with a small smirk, he guided and twirled, keeping rhythm and time to the music. Fenris leaned forward, opening his palm up to Anders.

Anders scowled and pulled out his coin purse, dropping five silvers into it. "Hawke!"

Hawke finished the dance, dipping Josephine low before pulling her upright. He took her hand, bowed, and kissed her knuckles before sauntering over to Anders. Fenris noticed the slight blush to Josephine's cheeks, and the scowl on Anders' face. Hawke moved right into Anders' personal space, cupped his chin, and kissed him deeply. Anders returned it briefly, then pulled back, still frowning.

"How come I never knew you could dance?" He looked at Josephine. "Can we pick it up later?"

"Very well, Inquisitor, but we leave this weekend. We'll spend one night as a guest of Duke Gaspard's though I doubt we'll see him, and then the ball is to take place the next evening. Do you have a list of those attending so I can send that ahead?"

Anders grabbed at Hawke's hands which were traveling from his waist down to his hips. "It'll be on your desk by tonight, I promise."

Josephine nodded and left, thanking Maryden for her time. Fenris watched the bard leave in the direction of the tavern, crossing paths with Dorian, who was coming their way, looking agitated.

"Anders, I'm very cross with you," he said by way of greeting.

Hawke turned, playful mood gone in an instant, glaring at Dorian.

Dorian scoffed. "Please, play your big, bad, protector role somewhere else. Anders," he said, looking past Hawke, "you didn't tell me that you've found and imprisoned Crassius Servis."

Anders raised an eyebrow. "Cullen's forces subdued him in the Western Approach. I was out there briefly to close a few rifts and look into some issues Rylen had. We took the Chargers to try them out. You and Fenris were on the mend."

"You took the-" Dorian broke off, waving a hand. "Doesn't matter. What matters is that I would have liked to have been told."

"You want an announcement every time we kill or capture a Venatori?" Hawke asked, annoyed.

"No," Dorian said impatiently, "just the important ones. Like Crassius. I should like to inform Alexius so the Magisterium can be told. They've already stripped Livius of rank, but making sure Crassius is as well would be a huge upset. If the Archon hears about this, he'll be forced to look more closely into the senate and its appointed officials. I have contacts in Tevinter who would have loved to have heard of this."

"So tell them," Anders said, shrugging.

"I've also found something else out, but I made a promise on your behalf for it," Dorian continued.

The scowl was back. "What?" Anders nudged Hawke aside to approach him.

Dorian held his hands up in surrender. "Just that you wouldn't kill him."

"Oh. Well. That's. Yes, I haven't decided what to with either of them but killing wasn't exactly top of the list. Go on."

Dorian's eyes flicked to Fenris, then back to Anders. In that one quick motion, Fenris felt his blood run cold and he knew almost instantly what it was about. Hopping off the table, setting his sword aside, he approached.

"Danarius?" Fenris asked, fists clenched. His left arm tingled like pins and needles at the movement.

Dorian nodded, tight-lipped. "Crassius knows of a Venatori plot. Vague details but they will be at the Winter Palace. And…" He looked at Fenris. "Yes. Danarius will be there. His failure at Redcliffe wasn't forgiven by Corypheus. It seems this is second chance."

"How is he going to get into the palace?" Anders asked. "This is Orlais. It's not as if they hand out invitations to Tevinter – ah. Sorry. You know what I mean."

Dorian waved a hand. "I doubt he's going to show up to be announced. More like whoever Corypheus convinced to have Celene killed is going to be sneaking Venatori in left and right."

"I'll talk to Leliana," Anders said. "She'll have a list of those who would stand to gain the most from Celene's death."

"You mean besides Gaspard," Hawke said.

"The man whose invitation you're arriving on," Dorian pointed out. "It's going to be tricky politics."

"Which is why you're coming with me," Anders said. He turned to Fenris. "And you."

Fenris nodded. He figured they would be on the list, but it felt good to be told that directly, especially now he knew Danarius would be there somewhere. They would have to find him. It might be his only chance to kill him once and for all.

"Talk to Josephine," Anders said. "Since you're coming, we're all being fitted with proper outfits… whatever that means. I'm sure it'll be uncomfortable."

Dorian grinned. "At last, a _real_ perk of joining the Inquisition. Proper fashion!"

Anders sighed. "Wish I had your enthusiasm. Come on, Hawke. You can teach me how to dance. Let Josephine have a break."

Fenris watched them leave, hand-in-hand. He looked at Dorian. "We have to find him."

"We will. I promise." Dorian kissed him gently. "I'll be all too happy to stand by your side as you kill the bastard." He stepped forward, pushing Fenris back until he hit the table. "To watch his face as your hand sinks into his chest."

Fenris shivered as Dorian's voice dropped into a low, seductive growl.

"His eyes widening in shock," Dorian whispered, hips pressed against Fenris's, grinding slightly against him. "The choked cry as you wrap your fingers around his rotten heart."

Fenris's own heart beat faster, Dorian's lips against his ear. His breath hitched when Dorian rolled his hips again, and Fenris had to grab onto the table to keep his balance.

"And how incredibly-" He licked the shell of Fenris's ear. "Deliciously-" Nuzzling his neck. "Sexy you will look, covered in his blood."

Fenris moaned as Dorian bit him, followed by a violent suction and tongue. He was panting, his own body reacting, moving against Dorian's heat, wanting more. Dorian chuckled, pulling away.

"Wha…" Fenris reached for him.

"Do you want someone to walk by and see you getting off to descriptions of death and gore? My goodness, Fenris, what a depraved and morbid person you are."

Fenris growled. "If you tease me like that again, it will be _your_ chest I put my fist through."

Dorian tsked. "So boring, when there's a better place to put it instead." He winked. "I have work. And so do you, I'm sure. I'll see you tonight."

Fenris watched him leave, tempted to throw one of the many random bits of flatware or even a mug at Dorian's head. At least there was the prospect of tonight.


	7. Chapter 7

With the promise of something more following the teasing that morning, Fenris managed a quick but efficient bath before returning to their room. Only to be disappointed that Dorian wasn't there. A purple flower lay on the bed over a note. He picked it up and squinted in the candlelight.

_All wolves enjoy the thrill of the hunt before they capture their prey._

_Hunt me._

_The purple flower mean you've found the next clue._

_Your first:_

_Where the wine flows like water. A place where heralds go to rest. Someone holds your flower, but who is it? Alas, you'll have to guess._

_Yours,_

_Dorian_

Fenris rubbed his forehead, trying not to laugh. The anticipation of meeting Dorian, of falling into bed with him tonight and finding some tension relief, had kept him on edge all day. And now, denied that relief, he wasn't sure if he would kiss Dorian when he found him or kill him. He had half a mind to undress, blow out the candle, and go to sleep. Dorian would come to bed in the early hours of the morning, annoyed and put out that he didn't play their game. But Dorian was right. There was something thrilling about this. So he took both flower and note and headed back out into Skyhold.

The clue was simple enough. 'A place where heralds go to rest' obviously meant Herald's Rest Tavern. But apparently Dorian gave the flower to someone, and he would need to find them. He hoped it was in plain sight. He would be an awful fool asking all the patrons of the tavern if they had a flower. Thankfully it was half-empty as he went inside, as it was already about an hour past the time for supper. He went to Cabot first, the dwarven bartender, to ask about a flower, or Dorian. Thankfully the dwarf only made a passing comment about, 'odd mating habits of humans and elves' before gesturing to the corner, where a large, hulking Qunari sat with a few others, mug of beer in hand. Fenris took a breath, steeled himself, and walked over.

"Excuse me."

The Qunari turned. "Ah! The lyrium-infused elf." He belched. "That 'Vint said you'd be around."

Fenris wasn't sure what to make of him. He'd heard, of course, of the Iron Bull and his Chargers, but found no reason yet to engage them. On principle, he kept away from Qunari, though he knew a bit about their customs. The Iron Bull, however, didn't seem like any Qunari he knew of. Tal-Vashoth then? He would have to ask Anders about it.

"Here, he left you this," Bull said, taking a crushed flower and a crumpled note from his pocket. "Some weird sex game you people play?"

Fenris felt himself blush, taking the items. "Thank you," he muttered.

Iron Bull laughed, as did those around him. "Guess that answers _that_! Another round, boys?"

Fenris ignored the cheerful clamoring and hurried outside, flicking open the paper to read under the oil lamp above the tavern's door.

_Well done, you've found the second flower. Next find the man who holds almost all the power._

Fenris frowned, flicking the paper against his chin while he thought. Anders would be the man who had all the power, he thought. Who would be next? Hawke? Would Dorian send him to Hawke? Doubtful. He thought about the other men in Skyhold, and suddenly it came to him: Cullen. At least, he hoped it was Cullen. He would feel very strange asking the Commander if he had a flower that Dorian had given him if he was wrong. With no other clues to follow though, he climbed the stone steps to the ramparts and made his way around the battlements, shivering against the cold wind. He knocked on the door to Cullen's quarters and peeked in.

Cullen was sitting at his desk, writing amidst a pile of papers and books, candle burning low. He was out of his usual armor, a thick, plain robe wrapped around himself to keep out the chill. He looked up when the door opened, and smiled.

"Fenris. Come in."

Fenris did, shutting the door behind him. "Good evening. I-"

"Yes, he did," Cullen said, gesturing his quill to the folded paper and flower on the desk. "I won't ask."

"Thank you," Fenris said with a relieved breath as he took the flower and the paper.

"How are you feeling? Recovered enough from Adamant to attend a ball?"

"I do not believe any amount of recovery will prepare me for an Orlesian Ball," Fenris said with distaste.

Cullen laughed. "True enough. I have my fitting for my formal attire tomorrow. I expect I'll see you with the tailor at some point."

"I doubt they'll care very much for a _knife-ear_ regardless of what I'm wearing," Fenris said bitterly.

"Mm. Well, if half the nobles in attendance went through what you've been through, they'd all have died choking on their own helplessness within the first two minutes of joining the Inquisition. You're worth twice the lot of them put together, and don't forget it."

Fenris stood, shocked for a moment at the lavish praise. "I… thank you," he said. "Good night, Commander." He left quickly, shutting the door behind him, and grinned a bit smugly. He unfolded the paper, tucking the flowers into the inside pocket of his cloak.

_How many more? You must be wondering. She might be annoying, but damn good at plundering_

Fenris read it twice over, frowning. Dorian was truly reaching for his rhymes. Poetry obviously wasn't his strong suit.

"Ploon… No. Plunder," he said, correcting his pronunciation. Plundering. Like a bandit? They had a lot of agents that could be considered bandits or thieves or even pirates. Glancing around, he realized. The tavern. Again. It had to be Sera. Hoping this was the last, he descended the steps and jogged the way back to the tavern, up to where Sera kept a room. Two notes were pinned to her door with daggers, and a purple flower lay across. He read the first.

_Hey arse-face, if you want help with your stupid fuck games, pay me better._

_Fenris, here's your note - >_

Fenris took the flower and the second note and read.

_My apologies to send you off this way, but the end is almost near. Head down to the place where danger waits, but take care, don't worry, you have nothing to fear._

"Nothing to fear?" he whispered.

"He means the dungeons," came a voice from above.

Fenris looked up. Cole was perched on the railing like a bird, smiling down at him.

"I know why you avoid me," he continued. "I don't mind. Many people do. But I'm not lonely. The Inquisitor visits me almost every day. Dorian, he means the dungeons. You should go. He's waiting."

"Why would he send me to the dungeons?"

"Running out of places to write. Hope he doesn't mind. Hope it gives him confidence, seeing those that would see him in chains locked up tight, unable to hurt, to hit, to harm. Just want to make him happy, give him what he deserves. Build him up, blissful, beautiful, broken. But mine."

Fenris swallowed hard, Cole's words touching him deeply. Perhaps he was wrong about staying away.

"You should go," Cole urged. "He's waiting. He misses you."

When Fenris looked up again to thank him, Cole was gone. Hoping that Dorian knew what he was doing, he pulled his hood up and left the tavern again, crossing the yard to the door that led to the dungeons. A sleepy looking guard sat back in her chair, feet propped up on a crate, and nodded at him as he passed.

"Oh it's you."

Fenris turned to see Erimond in a cell, sitting on a cot, book in hand. He frowned, approaching slowly.

"No, not me. I'm not playing Dorian's stupid game," Erimond sneered, waving a hand to another cell across the room.

Fenris turned, watching as someone he knew vaguely by sight sit up and stretch, covering a yawn. Crassius Servis had a dignified look about him, with closely cropped greying hair, a chiseled jaw, and tired, somewhat captivating eyes. Eyes which he narrowed almost seductively as he stood, leaning against the bars. He reached a hand through, beckoning Fenris closer. Fenris stopped just out of arm's reach.

"Dorian gave me these to give to you," he said, pulling the flower and the note from a pocket.

"He's just trying to curry favor with the Inquisitor!" Erimond shouted.

"I was actually hoping for a cell further away from _him_ ," Servis said with a belabored sigh. "If you could pass that request on, hm? Dorian's important here, isn't he?"

Erimond snorted.

"Ignore him," Servis said, almost pleasantly. "He's simply jealous that Dorian didn't choose _him_ to give the letter to you."

Fenris was used to snakes, and knew that Servis was simply trying to gain favor with his politeness. The joke was on him though. Fenris didn't have any clout to make Anders change his mind about any decisions when it came to prisoners. He took the proffered note and flower, thankful when Servis simply handed it over.

"Did he tell you about Danarius and the Winter Palace? I hope you tear the heart from that motherless son of whore," Servis said. The words were vicious but the tone casual.

Fenris looked up quickly and stepped away as if Servis's words had cut him.

Servis smiled plaintively. "The clue sends you to the kitchens. Good luck. I've heard the rumors about Dorian's prowess, but never got to sample."

"Now who's the whore, Crassius?!" Erimond spat.

Fenris fled, leaving them to argue, feeling slightly bad for the guard who now had to shut them up again. He glanced at the note just to verify. An indication of a bread crumb trail leading him to his, 'true prize.' Sure that the cook wouldn't be pleased with the mess, he headed off to the kitchens in order to follow the last clue to where Dorian would be waiting for him.


	8. Chapter 8

At one time the room might have been a lounge or a study. An enormous fireplace large enough to fit at least four men standing shoulder-to-shoulder took up much of the far wall, a modest fire bathing the room in a warm orange light. Two dusty couches covered in drop cloths faced one another, and old, moth-eaten tapestries lined the walls. Above the mantle was a large map of old Thedas, yellowed and cracking. But it was what was directly in front of the fireplace that caught Fenris's attention the most. Dorian had dragged a great bear skin rug from somewhere into the room, and was lying casually on it, a thin blanket draped over his otherwise completely naked body. He rolled onto his stomach, and in the shadows cast by the light of the fire, Fenris saw his lazy smile.

"Mm. I was beginning to think you weren't going to show up," Dorian said, almost tiredly. He rolled away from Fenris, sitting up before looking back at him, dragging his fingertips over the pelt. "Come?"

Fenris leaned down, untying his boots and kicked out of them. He dropped his cloak on one of the couches before crossing the room to kneel down on the rug. He couldn't help but rake his eyes over Dorian's naked body, the blanket positioned teasingly over his lap.

"You look eager."

Fenris growled, darting forward for a kiss, frustrated when Dorian moved away. "Dorian-"

"Here." Dorian took two glasses and a bottle of wine from the hearth. He handed a glass to Fenris and poured.

Fenris was slightly placated when he took a sip. It was rich and delicious and tasted vaguely like apples. "It's good."

Dorian smiled, setting the bottle down. "It is, isn't it? I picked it especially for you." He sipped, purposefully spilling a bit onto his chest. "Oops," he said, unconvincingly. "Clumsy me. And I've nothing with which to clean it."

Fenris took the bait, leaning in, licking the droplets away, pushing Dorian down to the rug. He heard Dorian's quiet laugh turn into a moan as his tongue found a nipple and flicked before moving lower. Dorian took his wine glass and Fenris heard the clink and both were set down.

"Undress, love," Dorian urged. "I want to feel all of you tonight."

Fenris nearly ripped his tunic off and knelt up, awkwardly pulling at the ties to his trousers. He shoved them to his knees before leaning down to kiss Dorian, wriggling out until he was as naked as his lover. Dorian returned the kiss, one hand on the small of Fenris's back, rubbing slowly, sliding down to squeeze his ass. Fenris thrust his hips against Dorian's, the heat of bare flesh sliding together arousing him instantly. Dorian rolled them over, laying on top of Fenris now, smirked, and reached down.

"Oh," Fenris sighed, eyes fluttering closed as Dorian stroked him slowly.

"You're so beautiful," Dorian whispered. "I wish you could see yourself. Your lips, the way your mouth opens and your nose twitches just a little."

Fenris blushed, opening his eyes. Dorian smiled. He lowered his hips, pressing his prick to Fenris's, hand around both now.

"I don't wish to crush you. If you could take over," Dorian suggested, leaning down to nuzzle Fenris's cheek. "This will feel so very good for both of us. And it's only the beginning tonight."

Fenris did as he was told, hand sliding down to wrap around his erection and Dorian's, while Dorian propped himself up on his elbows. Slowly he started to move, and Fenris gasped at the sensation. They kissed again, Fenris unable to keep from whimpering, Dorian seeming to find it amusing as he smiled into the kiss. His lyrium lines flared, causing an oddly pleasant tingling, and he realized Dorian's fingers were hotter than normal. They dragged along the tips of his ears, to his neck, over his jawline.

"All right?" Dorian asked, breaking the kiss.

"Yes," Fenris breathed.

But he wanted more. With brute strength he pushed Dorian over again, on top now, and thrust forward, rubbing their cocks together. Dorian's legs spread, then wrapped around his waist, encouraging him. Fenris kissed him hard and moved faster, Dorian's hands on his back, nails digging into his skin. He flicked his tongue inside Dorian's mouth, a thrill of arousal shooting through him when Dorian moaned. Hands now at the back of Fenris's head, holding him in place, tasting him, he let Fenris take control of the kiss. Fenris panted, hips thrusting faster now, needing just a little more, just a little bit, getting so close…

Dorian broke the kiss, smirking as he pushed Fenris away, using his legs to turn them over again. He winked and wasted no time sliding down Fenris's body, hands on his hips, pinning him to the rug, and licked a long stripe up Fenris's cock. Fenris exhaled sharply, shaking at the sensation. He reached for Dorian's hair but remembered belatedly he didn't care for that, and ended up sinking his fingers into the thick pelt of the bear hide.

"Just hold on," Dorian ordered.

Fenris did, legs parting, Dorian lying between them, mouth doing wonderful, sinful things to his cock. Fenris shut his eyes tight against the pleasure, trying to remember to breathe. He forced himself to look down, to watch, fighting not to thrust his hips, chasing the wet heat of Dorian's mouth. His heels dug into Dorian's back, urging him on, deep, throaty noises escaping his mouth.

"We're so far away from anywhere else in the castle," Dorian said, leaning up, licking his lips. "I want to hear you scream."

"Oh, fuck," Fenris hissed. His eyes widened as Dorian took his cock in to the hilt, and felt his throat work around it. He swallowed, and Fenris cried out, unhampered by close quarters where anyone could hear them. He indulged, letting Dorian hear him as he begged. "Please," he whimpered. "Please, Dorian. I want to come."

Dorian pulled back, encircling the base of Fenris's cock, and started to bob his head, lips tucked carefully over his teeth. The repetitive motion kept Fenris on the edge, getting closer and close to his climax. Dorian tongue flickered over the tip of his erection, across the slit, down, and pulled back, lips slightly swollen and glistening.

"Why… why did you stop?" Fenris demanded.

"Mm. You know, it's a common practice in Tevinter," Dorian noted, rubbing his lips over the tip again, swirling his tongue around it. "To cut the foreskin. It's not really done anywhere else in the world, as far as I know."

"Fascinating," Fenris ground out, leaning up on an elbow to look down at him. "Could we save the lessons for another time?"

Dorian laughed. "I'm afraid you might hurt me if I don't continue."

"I'm afraid I might have to," Fenris returned.

Dorian leaned up and kissed him. "Mm. Did you want to…"

"I want your mouth," Fenris said at once.

"You could have something else of mine," Dorian whispered against his lips. "I stopped by one of the merchant's stalls." He pushed Fenris back to the rug, straddling his waist, their cocks pressed together again. "Oh I'm fairly sure she knew why I needed this certain potion. Used for massages normally, but it creates a very nice heat."

Fenris inhaled sharply. Taking Dorian… he'd thought about it. Fantasized what their first time like that would be. It was always with himself on the receiving end though, the way Danarius had taken him. Usually on all fours like a dog, so Danarius didn't have to look at him. Danarius used him, and was done with it. But Dorian wouldn't do that. And Dorian was offering himself. The hesitation must've shone on his face because Dorian was kissing him again tenderly.

"We'll save it for another time," he said, nuzzling his cheek. "But I do want something… Alas, no toys tonight. Perhaps something to add to our list of things to purchase when we visit Orlais."

Fenris laughed. "Toys?"

Dorian began thrusting against him again, and Fenris moved with him. "Yes," Dorian groaned. "All sorts of things. Wonderfully crafted from polished wood and glass, made for inserting – oh, Maker," he breathed, grabbing at Fenris's thigh for leverage. "Or these lovely… hng. Beaded strings… fuck, Fenris… more… You put them in and… ah…"

Fenris flipped them again. "Let me."

"Be my guest," Dorian urged him.

Fenris knelt next to him, leaned down, and took Dorian's cock into his mouth. He closed his eyes at once, listening to Dorian's pleased moans. This was something he was good at, something he knew he could do well. He tasted the familiar tang of precome and sucked hard, drawing it over his tongue. Dorian swore in Tevene, pounding a fist on the rug. Fenris smiled and continued, hand joining his mouth, saliva providing a slick lubrication as he stroked him. He looked down, watching Dorian's legs twitch as he sucked him. Stimulated as he was already, it didn't take much to bring him to the edge, and he pulled back before Dorian reached his peak.

"What?! Why did you stop?!" Dorian demanded, looking down. "Fenris, for the love of the Maker and all things fucking holy, I swear I will tie you up and leave you here if you – Oh."

Fenris moved, straddling Dorian's chest, facing his neglected cock. "Your mouth," he ordered.

"Maker's breath, yes," Dorian said, and Fenris felt his hands on the backs of his thighs.

It was almost impossible to concentrate on what he was doing while Dorian took his cock into his mouth again. Fenris thrust slowly, the position awkward, his knees hurting, but too aroused to care about the pain. He was determined to make Dorian come first, wanting to have something to boast about against all the things Dorian did. He whimpered around Dorian's cock, then sucked hard before resuming his earlier technique. They were battling, trying to make the other come first, but Dorian, while talented with his tongue, was not trained the way Fenris was. He squeezed gently with his hand, stroking while swirling his tongue over the tip, trying to ignore Dorian mirroring his actions on his own cock.

He was close, but he knew Dorian was closer, and redoubled his efforts, hand slick and stroking fast. He felt Dorian's hips shudder, thrust, and his mouth filled with seed. He swallowed quickly, then again, allowing himself a brief surge of pride at his victory while he lapped gently at the head of Dorian's cock. He pulled back, a rush of cool air on his own cock, and heard the quiet panting from somewhere near his middle.

"Dorian, are you-"

He cut off with a strangled cry as Dorian took his sac into his mouth, sucking gently on one side, then the other, tonguing it fervently. The warmth was gone, and a second later Fenris was sure he was going to die as Dorian's tongue pressed against the spot just behind his balls. More gentle wet pressure, and he gurgled, almost falling over. Dorian's arm snaked around his thigh, hand gripping his cock, he started to stroke.

Fenris uttered a quiet curse, not sure whether to thrust forward or shove himself down onto Dorian's face. He didn't have to make the choice because before he knew it he was coming, leaning forward, fingers digging into Dorian's thighs, he thrust his hips absently, gritting his teeth as his world shrank to the single, overwhelming sensation of orgasm.

Dorian let him stay there a moment, catching his breath, before he pinched him lightly on the back of the thigh. Fenris moved off him shakily and laid down, head on Dorian's hip. He saw Dorian's chest spattered with his semen and laughed, unsure of what was appropriate to say in this situation.

"At least it wasn't on my face," Dorian remarked, lifting his head to look. "Bitch to get out of the mustache." He was breathing heavily, one arm up above his head, the other between Fenris's legs, fingers dragging lazily over whatever skin he could reach. "Bit of a work out."

"What did you touch?" Fenris asked, reaching down to touch his own backside.

"There's this lovely little bit of anatomy right behind your balls," Dorian said. "Fucking amazing when it's done right, I think."

Fenris laughed again. "That's an accurate way of putting it."

"Oh there are many, many more," Dorian said eagerly. "And I expect to show you every one in a mutual give and take of phenomenal, fantastic fucking."

Fenris shivered. "Mm."

"We'll buy a toy or three."

"Yes," Fenris agreed.

"Should get up."

"Yes," Fenris said again.

"You're not going to move, are you?"

"Why should I?" Fenris asked, lifting his head slightly.

"Well it's generally impolite to leave me like this. Since you caused the mess."

"I wouldn't have if you had just swallowed," Fenris argued. Dorian smacked his ass. "Ow!"

"Impertinent. Rude. Insufferable."

"Spoiled," Fenris shot back. "Lazy." He got up slowly, casting around for something to use. He pulled the drop cloth from one of the couches off and wiped Dorian's chest clean before tossing it away.

"Let's hope they don't examine that too closely if they decide to try to make this room habitable."

Fenris grunted, reaching over Dorian for the wine bottle and took a swig before lying down, pulling the blanket up and over them.

"We should go back to the room," Dorian noted. "Might not be the most comfortable thing to sleep here."

"Hng," was Fenris's response as he leaned up to sip again.

Dorian's fingers slid over his and he took the bottle for a sip of his own. "Tired?"

"Mm." Fenris turned toward him, face buried against his side, leg sliding over Dorian's. "Just a quick sleep."

"All right," Dorian agreed, settling the bottle down, gathering Fenris close. "Then back to the room, or perhaps round two?"

But Fenris was already asleep.


	9. Chapter 9

Three large carriages were requisitioned to bring the Inquisitor and his entourage to the Winter Palace. Fenris flexed his fingers in their odd, thick gloves. They would make wielding a sword difficult, and he wished he'd practiced with them on. His left arm was weak but operable, his hand not as dexterous as it used to be. There were no weapons allowed in the palace, but as Leliana said, they would be stupid not to anticipate others having them. Thus, her spies were dispatched ahead of time and Anders knew the location of the bulk of their things, should they need them for a fight. 

Fenris only needed his lyrium lines and his spirit form to tear the heart from Danarius's chest, though. He was more worried about the others. Hawke, he knew, could handle himself in a fist fight, as could Blackwall, who shared their carriage. Cassandra wasn't above brawling either, and might start a fight simply out of sheer annoyance tonight. Sera was scrappy in a fight, even without her bow, and Varric could move fast enough, even if he lamented the loss of his crossbow for the night. But pitted against armed and armored Venatori, Fenris wasn't sure how well any of them would hold up.

Cole was a spirit or something close enough, and didn't need his daggers. Though with his unique ability of forcing people to forget him, Anders was positive they could get away with Cole carrying them right into the palace. He would be good for subduing any attackers, weakening them before they would have to fight. And the mages themselves wouldn't need staves, though they would likely be watched much more closely than the others. And the Iron Bull… well, nothing truly needed to be said about the capable Qunari warrior. Armor or no, he could crush the Venatori with two good blows to the chest.

Dorian slid his hand onto Fenris's knee, which he'd been jiggling in nervous anticipation. "Are you all right?"

"Thinking."

"What about?"

"Entrances and exits," Fenris said distractedly. This, above all else, was what Danarius used him for. As a bodyguard, he was trained to find a quick way to escape, perceive any potential threat before it became an actual one, and to know his master's enemies and their abilities inside and out.

"We'll be fine. We just follow the Inquisitor's lead and enjoy the refreshments when we're not needed."

"Quickest way to get killed is by not paying attention," Fenris insisted. He was nervous, anxious, years of training flooding back and taking hold, recalling every party he'd attended, every gala where he'd watched Danarius's back.

"It's a good rule to live by," Blackwall acknowledged, looking at ease in the formal attire.

They all wore similar outfits, red velvet with gold filigree, and Fenris admired the way it looked on Dorian. But then, Dorian could wear a potato sack and make it look regal, he thought.

Dorian sighed. "But honestly, it's a ball. There will be dancing and cake and of course backstabbing both figurative and literal. There's no use getting worked up over it. At least not until we need to. I trust the Inquisitor and Leliana to make sure we're prepared before we go wading into danger."

"You would say that, being a mage," Blackwall said.

"And what's wrong with my being a mage?" Slightly defensive.

"Nothing. You were helpful enough at Adamant."

"Helpful eno- I walked the Fade with the Inquisitor!" Dorian said, sitting up straight now.

Fenris took his hand. "Stop."

Dorian huffed. "As if the Inquisitor needs another bearded barbarian type hanging around…"

"He's a Grey Warden," Fenris said, cutting Blackwall off. "I imagine it's good for the Inquisitor to have the camaraderie, considering what happened to Stroud and the others."

"I suppose," Dorian conceded.

"Better a Warden than a pampered, spoiled brat," Blackwall muttered.

"Pampered?" Dorian asked, sounding offended. "No one's peeled me a grape in weeks, how can he call me pampered, Fenris?"

Fenris rolled his eyes. "Truly you are the bravest of us all for the sacrifices you make," he said sarcastically, catching the small smile of Blackwall's.

"And now you're both making fun of me," Dorian complained. He took a breath. "I suppose we should call truce then, for the sake of the Inquisitor."

Blackwall nodded. "Very well. But only for the night."

"Perish the thought that we should actually become friends!" Dorian said, touching a hand to his breast.

"Would you really want to be friends with a lowly commoner like me?" Blackwall challenged. He leaned forward, elbow resting casually on a knee.

"Well you would need to learn how to bathe properly first." Dorian wrinkled his nose.

Fenris sighed. "It's not worth the trouble or the effort," he said, teasing. It was a good distraction from his thoughts.

"You do it," Blackwall noted.

"The sex is good," Fenris said absently, then blushed, but Blackwall's booming laugh covered his embarrassment. He looked at Dorian, and was pleased to see that he was preening, sitting up straight with a smirk on his face.

"Fair enough," Blackwall chuckled.

"Since I wouldn't touch you even if you _were_ properly bathed, I suppose you can skip it," Dorian said stuffily.

"Just because someone doesn't spend three hours grooming himself in the mirror doesn't mean he's unwashed," Blackwall insisted.

"Three and a half on some days," Fenris added.

"Clearly I am outnumbered on the hygiene debate. Bunch of savages."

"Not all of us can carry the smell of roses," Blackwall said.

Dorian sniffed. "It's a mix of spindleweed and vanilla, you plebian. And for your information, Fenris bought that for me the last time the merchants at Skyhold had it in stock. Did you know that Commander Cullen favors a-"

"The less I know of the Commander's preferences for scent, the better."

"We're here," Fenris said, looking out the window of the carriage.

They stopped and several footmen opened the doors. Fenris, used to being on the other end of this ceremony, nodded his thanks to the elf who wore the mask of house Valmont. Josephine taught them the custom, though Fenris knew a little about it previously. The Inquisition would not be wearing masks tonight. It was not a slight against Orlesian culture, but rather a way to set themselves apart. They were not a force of Orlais or its Chantry. In fact, they were beholden to no country and made political ties for peace, not for power. The fact that it was led by a man born of the Anderfels, raised in Ferelden, with ties to the Free Marches, _and_ he was a mage, proved to only further the separation of the Inquisition from any other pre-established army or nation.

Anders, straight-backed and proud, was gazing up at the Winter Palace with open awe. Fenris had seen his fair share of estates, mansions, and palaces. His own upbringing automatically distilled a hatred of Orlais in him, and he scowled at the frippery, the sweeping awnings and curlicues of gold and silver that seemed to be everywhere. Tevinter was no less ornate in its architecture, but much more severe and practical. There were many places where dwarven influence was obvious, including the large Proving Grounds in Minrathous, and the banking districts. And in Tevinter where dragon heraldry was found on every corner, here the symbol was a proud, golden lion.

The silver gates were flung open wide, leading up a long path toward another set of gates and the inner courtyard. Despite his dislike for the country, Fenris actually felt at ease with this pageantry, until he realized he would be required to do more than simply stand next to someone and look intimidating. Would he have to make conversation with these people? No, probably not. Despite being a member of the Inquisition, he was an elf, and while Orlesians officially condemned slavery, he was sure not all the servants of the palace were getting paid for their work. At least Tevinter had the good taste not to pretend they abhorred the practice while indulging in it. Then again, there was blood magic for that.

"Are you all right?" Dorian asked, nudging him a bit. "Come. The Inquisitor's leading the way."

Fenris nodded, taking a breath, and walked with Dorian up to the courtyard.


	10. Chapter 10

Grand Duke Gaspard de Chalons was dangerous. Fenris knew this the second he laid eyes on him and was pleased when Anders, Hawke, and Cullen walked away to speak with him in the courtyard. A chevalier, a trained and deadly fighter. And a strong military mind to rival any other. He would make a formidable ally and a dangerous foe. Fenris saw it at once in his stance, though also noted that he was a bit older, perhaps forties or fifties, though that wouldn't slow him down much in a fight. And if he was a contender for the throne, Fenris wondered what was stopping him from simply taking it. Then again, he supposed that's what the civil war was about. He hadn't heard much about the fighting in the Dales, except that it was brutal. Another noble's war that got too many little people killed, as Sera would say.

Speaking of, he watched as she carefully inched her way through the crowd, saw the flash of a hand as she lifted a purse or two, tucking them inside her own pocket. While most of the Inquisition agents looked put together in their red and gold finery, Sera definitely looked out of place. He wondered if she even went to the fitting for the outfit or if Josephine simply gave up and told the tailor to guess as best as possible. And how much bribery did Anders have to push to even get her to come? Then again, Fenris thought, he probably only had to offer the opportunity to pickpocket stuffy nobles and perhaps a box or two of Orlesian candies to get her to agree.

Cassandra on the other hand, likely needed a lot more than that. Fenris touched Dorian's arm and gestured with his head toward the lamp post Cassandra was currently holding up. 

Dorian smirked. "You go keep her company. I'll find us some wine." 

Then, to Fenris's delight, Dorian leaned down and kissed him, drawing the stares of several nearby noblewomen in ornate silken half-masks and powdery white makeup. One of them gasped outright when Dorian winked as he passed, and Fenris watched eyes follow Dorian through the courtyard. Though the ball might be Orlesian, Dorian was only out of place because of his skin tone and accent. Nobility was nobility, after all. And speaking of, he strode over to Cassandra, who was creating a wide semi-circle of space around her with the annoyance that radiated off her.

"What?" she growled. "Oh. Fenris. It's you. My apologies. I have not the patience for this…" She waved a hand.

"Why didn't you ask Anders to leave you behind?" Fenris asked, feeling quite the same as Cassandra, but he was simply better at hiding it. More practice, or perhaps just the impending threat of punishment should he act out. If he misstepped, Danarius would have him beaten. Thinking about his former master put him even more on edge. He was here somewhere.

"Regardless of my feelings on the matter, the Inquisition needs to be seen as a unified force. Anders needs my support and thus, I am here."

Fenris admired her convictions. "What do you think will be accomplished tonight?"

Cassandra raised an eyebrow. "A lot of double-speak, backstabbing, and useless politics. Hopefully it will end with a true victor for the throne, whether that is Gaspard or Celene, and Orlais will start concentrating on what's truly important."

"Like Corypheus."

She almost smiled. "While we attend balls and sip wine, who knows what he's planning next? We are only here to try to stop him and to end whatever plot his agents are concocting."

If Cassandra was the sort of person who allowed herself to have best friends, Fenris thought he'd be rather comfortable in the role. She was strong and simple and straightforward. "Let's hope the Inquisition can do something about it, then."

"Indeed. Oh. I see a second cousin of mine. Excuse me." She walked off in the opposite direction quickly as an overweight man with short dark hair and eyes that were reminiscent of the Pentaghast clan walked by.

Fenris strolled the courtyard, feeling out of place. Shorter than most of the guests, he usually stood a bit taller with a giant greatsword on his back, or following slightly behind his master. But now he was just another elf. Nothing made that clearer than when a tall man in a ridiculously feathered mask approached him.

"Petit lapin! Où sont les boissons?"

Fenris frowned, raising an eyebrow. "I don't speak Orlesian."

The man scowled, raising a hand, and Blackwall appeared suddenly behind him, grabbing his wrist. "Désolé, mon ami. Il est avec l'Inquisition. So piss off."

Fenris watched the masked man stammer, then wince as Blackwall's grip tightened before he let him go.

"You all right?" Blackwall asked, nodding at Fenris.

"Fine. He wouldn't have been able to hit me."

"No," Blackwall agreed. "I imagine he'd end up less one hand if he tried. Still, don't want to make things more difficult for the Inquisitor."

"I didn't know you spoke Orlesian."

Blackwall frowned and shrugged. "Something you pick up here and there when you travel around as much as I have."

Fenris recognized that he clearly didn't want to talk about it, and assumed it had something to do with his life before he became a Warden, so he let it drop. "Have you seen anything yet?"

He shook his head, reaching up to scratch at his beard thoughtfully. "No. Which is disconcerting. Usually you'd see a sneaky servant or see someone whispering in the shadows, right?"

"Right," Fenris agreed.

"I'll keep my eye out. You do the same. The Inquisitor's going inside just as soon as Josephine and Leliana show him off to a few more people. Ought to think about doing the same."

"Thank you again," Fenris said.

Blackwall waved it away, but smiled, and headed off toward the palace. Fenris continued further in and found Dorian holding two glasses of wine in one hand, flirting casually with two giggling women in masks.

"Yes, I _am_ from Tevinter. But I do apologize, I have to pass any dance requests through my lover. Though I do agree, your father would find it quite scandalous were I to take you upon my arm, mademoiselle, and you would look quite ravishing there."

"We have other things to do than dancing," Fenris said, moving to his side.

"And here he is now," Dorian said, handing a glass to Fenris, leaning down to kiss his cheeks. "Pardon us, ladies."

The women gasped, covering their painted lips with their gloved hands, and giggled again as Dorian led Fenris away. Fenris heard one of them say, "An elven lover? They DO do things differently in Tevinter!"

"Thankfully you have impeccable timing," Dorian said, sipping his wine.

Fenris sniffed, sipped, and made a face. It was much too sweet for his tastes. "Sera is busy robbing the nobles blind. Blackwall hasn't seen anything unusual which is… unusual. Cassandra appears to be actively trying to disappear."

"She should take a lesson from Cole," Dorian said airily, leading Fenris toward the steps of the palace. "I haven't seen him all night. I think the others have gone in already. Are you ready to be announced to the Imperial Court?"

"Not particularly," Fenris said through gritted teeth. He downed the wine. While he didn't care for it, he would need the alcohol to steel his nerves for what would prove to be a very trying night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Orlesian/French translation if you're interested/don't want to use google translate:
> 
> "Petit lapin! Où sont les boissons?" // "Little rabbit! Where are the drinks?"
> 
> "Désolé, mon ami. Il est avec l'Inquisition." // "Sorry, my friend. He's with the Inquisition."


	11. Chapter 11

The grand ball room positively sparkled in the light of many ornate chandeliers. Golden lion statues were prevalent through the halls, as well as the hangings of the colors of House Valmont, deep purple and vibrant yellow. Accented with many different colors that seemed to somehow clash at the same time complement, all of it was tied together with a highly polished black and white marble floor. Fenris stood impatiently, listening as the long list of names droned on forever as nobles were announced ahead of them. This type of formality he was used to. What he wasn't, however, was standing on his own during it. Danarius would bring him through and usually he would be ignored or introduced as, "…and his bodyguard," to his master's lucrative title. Dorian turned to him, winking, and reached back to squeeze his hand gently. He was almost feeling better until Solas was introduced as Anders' personal servant. He wondered if Solas would take offense.

"Lord Dorian Pavus, member of the Circle of Vyrantium."

Dorian stepped forward, down the stairs with practiced poise as his name was announced.

"Son of Lord Magister Halward Pavus of Asariel."

Fenris held his breath.

"And his consort, servant of Lord Magister Gereon Alexius, member of the Liberati class of Tevinter, Fenris. Also known as Fen'Elgar, the _Spirit Wolf_."

Fenris nearly tripped down the stairs, catching himself before anyone saw, and remembered to keep his head up. He wondered whose idea it was to announce him that fashion. Further, he wondered how to wrap his head around it, and the stares he was now garnering. Interested looks from all around the upper balcony, Fenris saw it in his peripheral vision. Had news of what Danarius accomplished with the lyrium brands spread to Orlais? Or was their interest on the first part of his title, that he was introduced as a consort of Dorian's? He crossed the ballroom and stood next to Dorian, head swimming with thoughts, calmed only by Dorian's gentle touch.

"Should have shown the markings off," Dorian said, barely moving his lips. "That would've really shocked them."

"Did you tell them to announce me that way?" Fenris asked, trying to keep his eyes straight as Anders addressed the empress.

"Well not the 'consort' bit," Dorian admitted. "But the titles make you seem rather impressive, don't they? Not that you need titles to be impressive, but I expect it'll take some of the heat off. At least, no one will be mistaking you for a 'little rabbit' anymore."

"Blackwall told you?"

"He seemed concerned."

They stepped forward to bow to the empress as the others had done, and finally that part of the pomp and ceremony was completed. Dorian wasted no time taking up another two glasses of wine from a passing tray and handed one to Fenris, clinking them together. Because standing around was a good way to get cornered, they started to walk slowly around the ballroom, watching as more nobles arrived and be received by the empress.

"I will ask them to announce you the same if we ever attend any balls back home. Though perhaps slightly differently. Definitely as a member of Alexius's house. You could use his name. He wouldn't mind. Fenris of house Alexius," he said broadly. "The intrepid warrior of Minrathous. Or Seheron, if you prefer," he added.

Fenris shook his head. "I'm not used to that."

"Well you should get used to it. Especially if you're going to come live with me after all this is done."

"I hadn't thought much on it…"

"You should!" Dorian insisted, as they made their way back into the vestibule, through the halls of the palace. "Then you could call yourself Fenris Pavus. Well that's a bit awkward, syllabically speaking. Something that marks you as my lover _and_ my equal, so that no one ever makes the mistake that Solas had to endure. And speaking of Solas," he said, lifting his glass to him.

Solas smirked and nodded back as they passed. It seemed he'd not suffered any insult from the announcement, though he was sure that Anders – wherever he was – had made many apologies for the misconception. In fact, Solas seemed simply amused by the entire thing. They moved out onto a large veranda where a bard played a light tune. Fenris glanced around, keeping an eye out for anything strange or unusual. A movement at the top of the balcony caught his eye.

"That counts," Fenris muttered.

"Hm?"

"Strange or unusual," Fenris said in an undertone. "I just saw Anders climbing the lattice."

"Definitely not something you see every day," Dorian agreed, looking up. "He moves fast."

"Hawke's at the bottom, likely to keep watch."

"Oh. Well. You go say hello and I'll be… anywhere but over there."

Fenris watched him disappear back inside, and he headed over to Hawke, who nodded to him. "Anders?" Fenris asked.

"So you saw? Told him he needed to be careful," Hawke said. "Cole's there with him, and I think Varric's checking locks. Heard something going on in the servants' quarters but we can't seem to get in. Stupid Orlesian engineering. Damn things are apparently too complicated for picking. But it's not the first time I had to break into an Orlesian palace."

Fenris raised an eyebrow. "Not the first time?"

"To be fair the last one was a castle," Hawke said graciously, with a smirk. "Long story involving Qunari and a mad duke with a wyvern for a pet. It all worked out in the end. Never thought I'd be back in the thick of an Orlesian soiree though."

"You attended a lot of parties because of your title?"

Hawke scowled, arms crossing. He looked smaller though no less intimidating out of his usual armor, but a bit ridiculous in the finery. "Not by choice. Kirkwall needed representation across the Free Marches and in Orlais so I was chosen to go. After the viscount lost his head to the Qunari and his son was killed by zealots, I was the closest thing they had to a pet monkey."

Fenris pursed his lips. A sore spot he hadn't meant to poke. "Did you bring Anders with you?"

"Of course. He was the only good thing about them. Liked making fun of me when I got propositioned."

"…How did you deal with that?"

"Told them my bed was warm enough with Anders in it and he doesn't like to share." Hawke started to grin, but his face fell as he caught sight of someone over Fenris's shoulder. "Ah shit."

"Champion!"

Fenris turned. A man with chin-length black hair and pouting lips approached. His mask was multi-colored with a house family crest painted near the cheek. His dark green doublet and brown hose made him look a bit like a tree, Fenris thought.

"How quaint to see you here!" the man said with an accent so thick it was hard to understand him.

"Cyril," Hawke acknowledged, allowing the handshake. Fenris noticed he let go extremely quickly.

"It has been so long since we have seen you. That dreadful business in Kirkwall and then you went missing! You were presumed dead, killed by that apostate that-"

"This is my friend Fenris," Hawke interjected quickly. "Fenris, Lord Cyril de Monfort."

"How charming, the company you keep, Champion. But it is Duke now, with my father's unfortunate passing."

Hawke tried to keep a straight face but Fenris noticed his eye twitch slightly.

"I heard rumors you had joined the Inquisition. Well that was no surprise. So is it true that the apostate that-"

Anders dropped down from the lattice, brushing himself off, causing Cyril to step back, shocked. "Everything you've heard?" he said, turning to Cyril. "Completely true." He slid a protective hand around Hawke's bicep. "Come on, Garrett-" and Fenris noticed the use of Hawke's given name as well as the glare sent Cyril's way, "-we have more mingling to do."

They walked away, and Cyril, obviously not wanting to be cornered into talking to an elf, merely gave an awkward nod to Fenris and hurried off. Fenris shook his head, drained his wine glass, and moved off to find any other members of the Inquisition.


	12. Chapter 12

"Blood."

"More blood."

"Lots of blood over here. Shit!"

"What?"

"Stepped in it."

That was the general assessment as they descended the steps into the servants' quarters. Cole had crept on ahead to scout while Fenris, Solas, and the Iron Bull carefully navigated the corridors under the palace. Somewhere above them, Anders was making nice in the ballroom, while Cassandra and Blackwall watched the servants' wing door. It wouldn't do, after all, to have the Inquisitor disappearing while they inspected every corner of the palace, trying to find out who was sneaking in the Venatori agents. Fenris thought at first it had been Gaspard, but overheard conversations between him and the empress that made it seem unlikely. If Gaspard was going to bring in assassins of any kind, it would be the chevaliers that followed him, not Tevinters.

They paused in the doorway of a bedroom, peering in at what first looked like three elves asleep in their beds. The thought was absurd; servants asleep during a ball. And upon closer inspection, Fenris realized that they'd all been stabbed to death.

"More victims of the Game," Solas noted. "But were they involved, or just innocent pawns?"

"Something else to tell the boss," Bull said, shaking his head. "Poor saps."

They gained the gardens after getting lost only once, and Fenris was relieved to see a cache of weapons. Not his treasured blade from Alexius, though he longed to have that in his hands once more, but a one-handed broadsword and a shorter dagger for his still-recovering left arm. Solas hefted the staff, testing its magic, and Bull chuckled approvingly at the modified war hammer. Several other various swords lay in the pile tucked behind the hedge, and one more staff, but they wouldn't need them.

"Red sure has good taste," Bull noted, looking at the red steel head, running his finger over it. "Damn fine craftsmanship. Think we'll be allowed to keep these?"

"No doubt they already belonged to the Inquisition in the first place," Solas said, stepping carefully under the multiple trellises that decorated the gardens.

"He's dead."

Fenris jumped, heart pounding and turned, but it was only Cole.

"Andraste's tits, kid, don't do that," Bull breathed. "Scared the shit out of me."

Cole tilted his head a little, daggers out, dripping in blood. "There's a man, dead by the fountain. With a knife in his back. More came. I killed them."

"Good job," Fenris said. "Show us?"

Cole led the way and Fenris carefully knelt down to inspect the body. "He's wearing the mask of the Council of Heralds. Like the old dowager. But the knife…" He looked closer, frowning. He knew the crest if only because they'd spent the previous night in the man's house as his guest. "Gaspard," he said, standing, looking at the others. "We'll have to tell Anders."

"So the Grand Duke kills a member of the Council of Heralds," Bull started as they continued through the gardens, "to get them on his side?"

"More likely this is a member who, in the event of the empress's death, would vote against Gaspard if the Council were called to appoint a successor to the throne," Solas said. "While he is technically her heir, the Council has final say when the claim for the throne is murky."

"You seem to know a lot about it," Fenris said, waving Cole on ahead as they carefully traversed the gardens. He stepped over three bodies, none of them Danarius.

"I enjoy the political intrigue and dangerous machinations of a royal court," Solas said, with an amused sort of smirk. "No matter what country, what kingdom, there is always some manner of the Grand Game being played."

"Yeah a game where a shit ton of people get killed while uppity pricks fight over a golden chair and a fancy piece of jewelry."

Solas frowned at Bull. "I suppose you believe it would be better if everyone simply accepted life under the Qun, never questioning if their leader is doing the right thing?"

"Stop," Fenris hissed sharply. He didn't want to think about the Qun right now. Living in fear of potential Qunari attacks on Seheron always turned him off the idea. He understood how it would be beneficial to some. Some who would prefer that their life had purpose, but not wanting to deal with the fear of what came next. Where there next meal came from, or if they would survive the day. The Qun removed all doubt, but all choice. It was safe for some, a prison for others.

Like slavery.

Regardless, it wasn't the time or the place to discuss religious philosophy. Cole returned to lead the way, following a trail of blood into a wing of the palace that looked like it was undergoing renovations. It had the same black and white marble tile as the ballroom, with long blue and gold carpets running the length of the halls. Drop cloths covered the furniture and large crates sat collecting dust. Amongst the collections of odds and ends – scratched gilded frames, marble busts of ages old emperors chipped and worn, rusted trinkets – Fenris found a perfectly polished wooden statue of a halla. It wasn't much larger than his palm, and he impulsively tucked it into his pocket, feeling more like a thief now than a conspirator.

"Bad guys," Bull said, drawing their attention.

Just ahead, two Venatori soldiers in full plate and masks were coming around the corner. Solas easily cast a barrier over Bull.

"You first," Fenris offered.

"Oh I knew I liked you for a reason," Bull said, and charged forward, swinging the war hammer.

The first soldier jumped out of the way of the charge, but the second caught the hammer directly on his breastplate, caving it in. He hit the wall, but was still moving. Not for long, Fenris thought. He felt the pull of magic, another shield for himself this time, and leapt easily on top of one of the crates as the first soldier raised his blade and ran for Solas. Fenris jumped, knocking him to the ground, lyrium brands flashing as he grabbed the man's head and twisted viciously, snapping his neck.

"I'm disappointed there's not more of them," Bull said, coming back, hammer slung over his shoulder.

So was Fenris. Not that he wanted to engage more enemies in full plate armor, but that Danarius hadn't shown his face yet. He wondered if Servis was simply lying to get in good with Dorian and Anders. Still, the night wasn't over yet.

"What a mess."

They turned, weapons raised. Fenris hadn't even heard the soft footfalls, and no wonder. He recognized "Ambassador" Briala. Though what he knew of her came from the biased source of Gaspard himself. Leliana mentioned that this elf was the former lover of Celene, and here for the peace talks on her invitation. He stepped forward, hand on Bull's arm to get him to lower his hammer.

"It will take months to get all the Tevinter blood out of the marble," she said, leaning down to examine one of the bodies. Shaking her head, she stood up and looked at them. "Well. What a diverse group the Inquisitor has brought. I hear you've another elf and a dwarf as well in your party. An insult to the court? Tell me," she said, looking at Fenris, "how many of them have asked you to bring them drinks?" She smirked bitterly. 

Fenris stiffened. While he'd never had a problem with other elves, until Solas, he never really felt like he fit in with any of them either. But Solas spoke to him not as another elf, but as a person. That Briala pointed out his race right away, if only to use it as a barb against the nobles, put him on edge immediately.

"No doubt you know who I am, but formal introductions won't go amiss, especially when there are potential friendships to be considered." She bowed low. "I am Ambassador Briala."

"You've already spoken to the Inquisitor," Fenris said. He knew what was likely to come next. A bid for help. Anyone who was close to Anders would be propositioned tonight one way or another.

They watched her cross the hall and step out onto a balcony. Hesitant though he was to follow, Fenris did, knowing Bull and Solas would back him up should Briala try anything.

"Indeed I have. But it doesn't hurt to be cordial to his friends." She sighed. "I came down here to save or avenge my missing people, but you've beaten me to it. And the Council of Heralds' emissary in the courtyard… that's not your work, is it?"

Fenris scowled. "No. We're not here to kill anyone."

"Except the Venatori, it seems," she said lightly.

"Yeah well they were asking for it," Bull grumbled.

"Gaspard may have overstepped his bounds with that one."

"Why ask us if you already know who killed him?" Fenris asked. He didn't like her. She might have been an elf, but she was nothing like the slaves and servants he knew back home. She played the Game just like the rest of them, and she was dangerous. He wondered what she hoped to accomplish, beyond perhaps more rights for elves in Orlais and across Thedas.

"To get the measure of your integrity, of course." She smirked behind her silver mask. The rest of her face was free of makeup unlike the nobles back at the ball. The smirk faded as she folded her arms over her stomach and leaned against the railing. "You arrived with Gaspard, but you don't seem to be doing his dirty work. I knew he was smuggling in chevaliers, but killing a Council emissary? Bringing Tevinter assassins into the palace?"

Fenris wondered if she had more information, or proof. Gaspard didn't seem that desperate. And while he knew that he had a lot to lose, partnering with Venatori seemed a bad investment in the long run. On the other hand, people did many stupid things for power. Though it seemed Servis might have informed on Gaspard if he was in fact the link. Or perhaps he didn't know. Fenris doubted Corypheus shared everything with his lieutenants, after all.

"The plot grows ever thicker," Solas said, and Fenris marveled yet again at how he seemed to be almost delighting in this.

"Ask the Inquisitor," Briala said, hoisting herself up onto the railing. "Ask him about a potential alliance. What could he do with an army of elven spies at his disposal? He should think carefully on that."

"And what price would he have to pay?" Fenris asked. There was always a price. A favor. Briala would ask for it now or demand it later. And he wasn't going to make deals for Anders.

"The Inquisitor is influential and powerful. No doubt he'll be heavily involved in the peace talks before the end of the night. Gaspard's price for bringing you here on his invitation is the same consideration I am asking for, that Celene will no doubt ask for. You convince him to sway our way… it could prove advantageous for us both. Think about it."

She leapt lightly off the balcony and disappeared from sight.

"We should return to the Inquisitor," Solas said. "He will want to know of this development."

Fenris agreed, and they started back toward the ballroom.


	13. Chapter 13

When they delivered the information to Anders, he was thankful, but unsurprised. Fenris found him with Hawke near the dessert table. Hawke was doing his best to try to ignore the group of giggling younger women who all seemed to be inching toward him.

"Everyone's got a hand in something tonight," Anders sighed. "I've been checking in with Leliana, and I spoke earlier to Celene's mage advisor."

"Celene keeps a mage at court?" Fenris asked.

"A position that was largely seen as… an amusement," Anders said through gritted teeth. "Bloody nobles."

Hawke put a hand on his shoulder. "Calm down."

Anders nodded, patting his hand. "I'm fine, love." Then, to Fenris, "She's the one who found the key that I gave Cassandra to let you down to the servants' quarters. There have been more whisperings though. I want to inspect the royal family's rooms if I can get to them. But they're locked up tight."

"Briala would be willing to help, I think. If you speak in favor of her. She knows the palace, and any building this large has to have servants' passages and secret doors." Fenris hesitated, knowing it wasn't his place to ask, but curious. "If they pull you in for the peace talks, which way are you leaning?"

"Josephine warned me this might happen. It's not something I wanted to get in the middle of, but we've seen the fighting in the Dales, the burnt out buildings, the…" Anders shook his head. "Regardless, once this is done, if the Inquisition has the resources, we're going out there to see what we can do. There've been a lot of reports of red templars sightings especially in highlands. Cullen thinks it might have something to do with Samson. I'm not looking forward to that."

"There you are!" Dorian said, coming over. "Anders, I've just had the most fascinating conversation with a Baron Mirielle. He says that his twin daughters were among the mages that rebelled and ended up with Fiona. He's willing to throw his lot in with the Inquisition, and believes fully in equal rights for mages in the south. The only stipulation is that he gets to see his daughters. You should invite him to Skyhold."

"See that it's done," Anders said, pleased. "I trust you to make the arrangements."

"I was hoping you'd say that because I've already invited him to come at the end of the month."

Fenris covered a laugh at Hawke's incredulous glare, Anders' amused smirk. 

Dorian slid a hand around Fenris's waist and kissed his cheek. "And how have you been?" He lowered his voice a little. "Solas mentioned something about Venatori. Was there…?"

"No," Fenris said, but leaned into the touch, despite the agitation he felt.

"We'll find him," Anders promised. "Even if we have to scour the palace from top to bottom." He looked past them, and immediately adopted a false smile. "More admirers," he said through gritted teeth.

Fenris pulled away from Dorian, turning to see the woman Celene introduced as her cousin approach. Her high and open collar was quite ridiculous he thought, with flowing sleeves and puffy skirts, her leather bodice looking tight and uncomfortable. He was suddenly quite thankful for the Inquisition's tailor and the simple outfits they wore tonight.

"Inquisitor," she said, looking straight at Anders, a smile on her lips which were touched with a deep berry color that offset her pale complexion. "We met briefly but I thought proper introductions were called for. I am Grand Duchess Florianne de Chalons. Welcome to my party." She curtsied with perfectly practiced ease.

Anders gave a short, stiff bow. "Is there something I can do for you, Your Grace?"

"Indeed there is." She gestured loftily away from the crowd that was starting to gather. "Shall we talk?"

Fenris saw the smile on Anders' face falter a bit, but he offered his arm, which Florianne took delicately, and excused himself from them. Dorian hummed as he inspected the desserts, taking up a chocolate dipped cherry and popped it into his mouth, stem and all. Fenris raised an eyebrow.

"I hate being shunted aside," Hawke grunted, eye on Florianne. From this distance they couldn't hear what she was saying to him, but Anders was nodding politely.

"All part of the duty," Fenris said. "Anders can handle himself."

"Indeed," Dorian said, pulling the stem from his mouth. He'd tied it into a perfect knot, and winked at Fenris before tossing it into a potted plant in the corner.

Fenris rolled his eyes. "Incorrigible."

"Are they going to the dance floor?" Hawke asked, uncrossing his arms and stepping forward.

Fenris followed him further into the room to look over the balcony. A grand song kicked up from the orchestra, and Fenris watched, leaning on the rail. Beside him, Hawke stood with his fists clenched, eyes narrowed and trained on Florianne as she danced with Anders. They were still speaking, but between the music and the lack of proximity, it was impossible to hear anything.

"He certainly improved on those lessons," Dorian said from Hawke's other side.

Fenris shook his head, wondering if Dorian was needling Hawke on purpose, or if he simply forgot to connect his mouth to his brain sometimes.

"Is this whole thing a joke to you?" Hawke asked, not taking his eyes off the dance floor.

"No, not at all. Well, not entirely," Dorian corrected. He was sifting through a handful of candied dates he'd snagged from the table, popping one into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully, before saying, "This is relatively tame as far as parties go. If we were in Tevinter, there would've been at least three demands for duels and at least one person shedding blood for a perceived insult. I haven't even heard a raised voice."

"You didn't see the servants' quarters," Fenris said, brow furrowed.

"Well that is true," Dorian conceded. "Still, I was hoping for a bit more of a show. Something more like back home."

Fenris looked down, golden gloves gripping the railing. He knew what Dorian was getting at, but he didn't have the same memories as him. His fellow slaves being bled for a parlor trick, a magister insulting another, throats slit and bodies being removed. It was all very normal, and maybe it was here, but something seemed wrong about seeing death at a party as the norm. Anders had said it a long time ago: "Our soldiers are not commodities." And even if Dorian was referring to the Orlesian party-goers, as much as Fenris detested them, they were still people. Someone's son or daughter. He knew Dorian would be devastated if anything happened to him or their friends, but sometimes his flippancy irritated him.

"What do you think they're discussing?" Dorian asked, changing the subject.

"The peace talks. Or her brother in particular, perhaps," Fenris ventured. 

He glanced around, looking for Gaspard, and caught a glimpse of him through the crowd on the veranda opposite. He appeared to be alone. Fenris pushed away from the rail, easily dodging the milling nobles. He heard Dorian say something, an inquiry as to where he was going perhaps, but he was focused, and slipped outside. Gaspard glanced his way, and Fenris noticed he frowned slightly before nodding toward the glass doors. Fenris didn't close them all the way, but enough.

"That was quite an introduction," Gaspard said, stepping over to a side table containing a punch bowl. He ladled out two drinks, then reached into his doublet, pulling out a silver flask, and held it up with a questioning look from behind his mask.

Fenris nodded, accepting the challenge. A man who would speak to an elf as an equal? And if he were going to poison him, he would have to be quick with his hands. Fenris watched carefully, knowing the tricks, and felt somewhat thrown when Gaspard did not. He even let Fenris choose his own glass. Another player trying to curry favor with the Inquisition then.

"It wasn't my choice," Fenris said. "Thank you." He sipped. The alcohol burned his throat but he carefully held his reaction.

"It is not my place to judge members of the Inquisition, not when your order has done so much already to help Orlais."

"Mm. But you will," Fenris pressed.

Gaspard laughed. "It isn't the Game, merely human nature."

"Perhaps it is the nature of humans."

"Ah, a sharp tongue. It is no wonder you made a poor slave."

Fenris's grip on his glass tightened marginally, and he pursed his lips. It was meant to be a compliment, he thought. Or perhaps an insult, he wasn't sure. When he was a slave, he was a good one; rarely did Danarius need to punish him. But to say one was a good slave in that context, was it better or worse than saying he was a poor one? "My master saw fit to grant me the boon of freedom for my service."

"I remember hearing about the work of a mad magister. He threaded lyrium into the skin of his slave, granting that slave unusual power."

Fenris was regretting seeking Gaspard out, but he had to confirm what he thought he already knew: that Gaspard had no dealings with the Venatori. He should have known better than to confront the man directly. No Orlesian would give a straight answer. "Not that master," he pressed, feeling the need to defend Alexius. "I was sold out from under him, then given freedom."

"Given? The way you describe it, it sounds like you took it for yourself. Earned it as a proper man should."

Fenris wondered if Gaspard used the word, 'man' instead of 'elf' on purpose or if it was a compliment. "I fought with his son against darkspawn."

"That makes you a formidable warrior. Fierce. Are you?"

"I am capable."

Gaspard laughed again. "Modesty in a warrior. That is only found among the chevaliers, I think. I value that. That and honor."

Fenris looked at him, trying to see his eyes beyond his mask, wanting to be able to read him the way the players of the Game could read a person. "Are you honorable?"

Gaspard gave a half-bow. "What does a man have, if not his good name?"

"Is that why you drove your country to civil war?"

The casual smile was gone, and Gaspard took a sip of his drink. "That is what Celene and her supporters would have you believe. Orlais is a grand empire, but it can only be so if it shows a mighty force. Its power must remain in its center, in the hands of the one who rules it, and no one else. If the Inquisition is trying to move in-"

"No," Fenris said. "The Inquisitor wants nothing to do with ruling Orlais or any other country. That's not what we're here for."

"Beg pardon then what _are_ you here for? I was under the impression that the Inquisitor would back my claim to the throne and we would depose Celene, bringing this war to an end. The Inquisition would have the backing of the most powerful country in Thedas."

Fenris flinched.

"My apologies. You are from Tevinter. Though I can't imagine you hold much love for the country, all things considered-"

"I do," Fenris said at once. And he did. True, there were many, many things wrong with Tevinter, but the more he and Dorian spoke about changing them, the more he was eager to return and actually do it. But first, Corypheus would have to die. The Venatori would need to be destroyed. The red templars crushed. A lot of work, and then they could move on.

Gaspard cleared his throat. "I understand you are among the Inquisitor's closest circle of friends. Do not be swayed by Briala. I've no doubt she's spoken to you tonight, tried to get you to her side because you are both elves. I see beyond your ears. Your prowess as a warrior, how you have fought to gain the position you hold even when the odds were against you. Take that into consideration." He gave another small bow and excused himself.

Fenris looked down at the punch, swirling it a bit. Gaspard held no love for Tevinter, even if he had respect for warriors. He'd come out here to gain clarity for his murky suspicions, and while he believed firmly now that Gaspard wouldn't conspire with Tevinter agents, especially supremacists, that left the question:

Who did?


	14. Chapter 14

"You know this is a trap."

"Yes, thank you, Varric, I got that when the Grand Duchess so helpfully 'suggested' that I take a look," Anders said, looking around as the dwarf picked the lock of the Royal Wing.

It was hard to look inconspicuous even tucked away as they were on a second floor landing. Cassandra and Bull were standing at the foot of the stairs, feigning conversation to keep the nobles away. She'd already made her displeasure known when it came to speaking to any of the other guests, and as Bull was the only Qunari in attendance, it was only natural that everyone would give him a wide berth. Cole was dispatched to move the cache of weapons to somewhere easily accessible in the Royal Wing, but told not to venture further. Even with his ability to sneak up on the armed soldiers they would no doubt find, the possibility of him becoming overwhelmed was too great. Especially because, as Varric pointed out, it was most definitely a trap.

The lock clicked and the door opened.

"Stay close," Anders said to Dorian and Fenris. "There's no telling what we'll find. If we see any of Briala's people or Gaspard's chevaliers, there's a good chance they won't attack. But the Venatori will."

Hawke looked at Varric. "Go tell the others to keep the upper crusts busy so they don't notice that Anders is missing."

"Yes, maybe Bull can be a distraction in the form of performance art," Dorian suggested.

Anders led the way into the hall, closing the door behind him. They found the cache of weapons hidden in alcove on the first landing, and Fenris felt marginally better. After Anders' dance with Florianne, he reported what he found out from Gaspard, which wasn't much, but a reassurance. Anders was pleased with the information, but agreed that they needed to work quickly to find the source before the Venatori became a problem.

"Do you think it's Florianne herself?" Fenris said, breaking the silence.

"What would she have to gain?" Anders asked, though he sounded as if he'd been asking himself the same question. "She brings in Venatori to murder Celene, it's not as if she gains the throne. She's not on the best terms with the Council of Heralds herself. Though her father mentioned she'd been acting oddly."

"Maybe Gaspard put her up to it," Hawke said. "And he was just playing you for a fool."

"Yes but what does _Florianne_ get out of it?" Dorian pressed. "For as good as you are with a sword, you don't have the brain to supplement it."

"If that means I have to start thinking like an Orlesian, I'll take it as a compliment."

"Pity it wasn't meant as one," Dorian muttered.

Fenris gave him a look as they turned onto a floor with several dark blue doors; the bedrooms of the royal family. "She might have been promised a higher position in the court. Part of the ruling government. Land. Money. Many things can drive a person."

"We're thinking about this the wrong way," Anders said. "It's not about what Gaspard can give her if we think she's sneaking in the Venatori. It's about what Cor-"

A blood-curdling scream cut across his words, and Hawke was running first toward the sound, which was coming from behind one of the doors. He kicked it open and Anders had only a second to cast a shield over him before a harlequin – a painted rogue with deadly talent – slashed her swords at him. He took a blow on the arm which glanced off, but the silver shield shimmered and fell. Fenris was there before the second blow fell, phasing through Hawke to get to the rogue. A flash of lyrium and he tore her larynx from her throat so she couldn't scream, and a thrust of his blade pierced her heart. She was dead before she hit the ground.

An elven servant, fallen to the floor in the fight, gasped and scrambled backward quickly, arm raised as if she was afraid Fenris would kill her in similar fashion. He stepped back at once, and Anders went to her side, comforting words on his lips.

"It's all right. We're not going to hurt you. Are you injured?"

The elf calmed at once, and Fenris marveled at Anders' ability to distill trust in someone, watching as he brought her to her feet and brushed her off.

"I don't think so," she said, though her voice quivered. "No one was supposed to be here. Briala said… I shouldn't have trusted her."

"Briala sent you here? Why?"

"She didn't send me directly," she said. "It was a coded message to come here. This is the Grand Duchess's room. Or it used to be," she added. "Briala wants to try to find something on Gaspard. She thinks he's going to try something tonight."

"So you were here trying to find something to implicate him?" Anders asked.

Fenris wondered if Briala would go so far as to set up either Gaspard or Florianne or both. He thought it likely. But Gaspard, given the chance, would likely not indulge in subterfuge of that nature. He seemed to prefer to fight his battles outright.

"No," the elf said. "I don't know. The message didn't say exactly. I should have known it was a setup."

"You're lucky," Dorian interjected, toeing the dead harlequin. "If someone sent you up here, it was likely to get you killed. You might have been the bait and the blackmail."

The elf girl shuddered, and Anders put a hand on her shoulder. "If we need you to speak out against Briala for any reason, would you?"

She nodded vehemently. "I knew her. I knew her before she was 'Ambassador' playing at revolution. When she was Celene's pet. She was sleeping with the empress who crushed the rebellion in Halamshiral!"

Fenris frowned. He hadn't heard _that_ part of the story of the civil war.

"All right," Anders said. "Go to the ballroom and find Commander Cullen or Lady Cassandra. They'll keep you safe for the time being. You let them know I said you're under the Inquisition's protection now, and we'll call on you if we need you."

She nodded and ran off.

"Maker's breath," Hawke sighed. "What a mess."

"Gaspard sneaking in chevaliers, Briala trying to blackmail him. Can't these people do anything without it ending in death?"

Hawke gently took Anders into his arms, kissing his forehead. "It'll be over soon."

"That's not the problem," Anders said, stepping out of his embrace. He gave the dead harlequin one last look of disgust before leaving the room. "I wonder what would have happened if Celene had simply married Gaspard for the good of her country. Or done anything except waited for the Chantry to make a move. That's what this is about, isn't it? Gaspard was impatient. Celene was _too_ patient."

"And stubborn. And proud," Fenris added.

"That too," Anders said, pointing at him emphatically. "Of course it didn't help that the situation in Halamshiral escalated to the point of a purge! Maker knows they treat the elves as bad as the mages, instead of locking them up they just crowd them into the dirtiest, poorest parts of every city. No one cares what happens to them, and the leaders stand around arguing when innocent people are dying!"

There was a flash of blue in his skin and he fell to the ground, clutching his head. Hawke dropped to his knees, arm around his shoulders. Fenris stepped back, feeling his markings ache with the sudden flash of the Fade spirit. Dorian looked at him with concern, but Fenris shook his head, shrugging his shoulders, trying to get the pain to fade. In his effort to stand not-too-close to Anders, he noticed something unusual. A door, but brown, not blue, with no handle. Glancing at Anders and Hawke who were still on the floor, the latter whispering quietly in an effort to calm the spirit, Fenris stepped over to it. He ran his fingers down the odd woodwork, and felt a notch where a keyhole would have been. He knelt.

"What is it?" Dorian asked.

"It looks like… Hm." He felt his pockets for a moment, and pulled out the small wooden halla figurine. It fit perfectly in the hole, and he turned it like a key. The door flashed with a magical barrier. Fenris watched, quietly impressed with himself as the door swung open, and he stood, pocketing the halla.

"A bedroom?" Dorian asked, following him in. He shoved a small table against the door, propping it open. "Just in case."

Fenris nodded. The room was larger than the others, a split-level with a sitting room on the bottom, and stairs leading up to a large, ornately carved bed with golden foot and headboards.

"Qui est là?"

Fenris exchanged a look with Dorian. Swords and staff drawn, they started slowly up the stairs.

"Je sais que vous êtes là!"

The sight that greeted them was something Fenris would be hard pressed to forget. A man, completely naked except for a helmet atop his head, tied spread eagle to the bed. He stared, eyebrow raised, wondering what in the Void he was doing there.

"Oh, S'il vous plaît, aidez-moi!"

"Sorry," Dorian said, shaking his head. "I only know one phrase in Orlesian, and it looks like you already have a bed partner for the night."

"I speak the trade tongue!" the man said, his accent thick. "It… this is not what it looks like. I only wish it was. Empress Celene did this. She promised me… well…"

"I can imagine," Fenris said, and he took pity on the man, untying the ropes that held him down.

"She beguiled me into telling her… into giving troop movements in the palace tonight."

Dorian cast around for the man's clothing and found a pair of trousers that he handed to him, an amused smirk touching his lips. The man dressed quickly, picking up his shirt from the other side of the room.

"She knows everything! As soon as he strikes, she will have him arrested for treason. S'il vous plaît! Please, do not tell the Grand Duke!"

"Would you be willing to testify against the Empress?" Fenris asked, remembering the same deal Anders offered the elven servant. "If we promise to keep you safe from Gaspard?"

"Yes! Yes, I will do anything! Merci! Thank you!"

"Go to the ballroom," Dorian said. "Maker, we seem to be collecting them now. Think they'll join the Inquisition after?"

Fenris shrugged. "We can always use capable soldiers and spies." To the man, he added, "Commander Cullen will look after you. Avoid the Grand Duke _and_ the Empress."

"And try not to get yourself caught with your pants down again," Dorian said as the man thanked them once more and hurried out, sidestepping Hawke and Anders, who were entering.

"What… was that about?" Anders asked.

"Feeling better?" Dorian fairly skipped down the stairs. "Oh just that Empress Celene apparently enjoys tying men to her bed. Here I thought she preferred women. Such a saucy little tease, she is."

Fenris sighed. "She did it in order to get information about Gaspard's troop movements. And it worked."

Hawke scowled. "So now we have dirt on all three."

"But only the word of Briala that Gaspard's been bringing in chevaliers," Fenris said, walking back into the hall with the others. "Even if that soldier testifies against Celene, there's no hard proof that the chevaliers are here. Unless you want to let them try to kill Celene as proof of their existence."

Anders shook his head. "No. No more deaths tonight. We'll find something. Maybe one of Gaspard's men will-"

"He commands loyalty," Fenris interrupted. "A man like that who controls an army? Who brought half of Orlais against its ruler?"

"We may have to forgo finding evidence on him," Hawke said, glancing at the large ornate clock that stood in the hall. "We've been gone some time."

"Just one more wing to examine," Anders said. "After all, what do I care about the Orlesian Court's approval anyway?"

Dorian laughed. "You could just act as if the whole this in utter inconvenience. And complain loudly about how bad the food is."

Anders managed a small smile as he led them through the corridors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Orlesian/French translation if you don't want to Google translate:
> 
> Qui est là? // Who's there?
> 
> Je sais que vous êtes là! // I know you're there!
> 
> Oh, S'il vous plaît, aidez-moi! // Please help me!
> 
> -
> 
> And of course the Orlesian phrase that Dorian knows is the one every dashing noble playboy should know: 
> 
> Voulez-vous coucher avec moi? // Will you sleep with me?


	15. Chapter 15

Even before the Anchor on Anders' hand started to thrum and pulse, they knew something was terribly wrong. Like a compass, they followed it, letting it guide them through room after room until they came to stop in front of a set of doors. Beyond, they heard the shouts of a man for help, Fereldan, from the sound of him. Confused, wondering why a Fereldan would be in the Winter Palace, Anders looked toward them, making sure they were ready before he opened the doors and stepped into the small courtyard.

A large tear in the Veil, twisting and ominous with its green mist, the pull of the Fade, made Fenris wince. He stepped aside, turning his blades and was about to remark on the oddity of finding a rift in the Veil here, inside the Winter Palace, when he realized how it got there.

"Danarius."

Danarius stood casually against a statue of Maferath, a tall, white marble carving. "Hello, pet."

Just behind him, a woman with short black hair and ice blue eyes sneered at them. Her staff, made of twisted onyx metal, a blood red stone at the tip, flashed with magical energy. Fenris was too quick though, using the pull of the Fade to ease his passing into his spirit form, and the blast went straight through him.

"Hadriana," Danarius said smoothly. "Let's not be hasty. Inquisitor. Champion." He smirked, looking at Dorian. "The toothless pup."

"And who's holding your leash?" Dorian asked. "Since we're going to resort to insults of a base level. Did they feed you little treats? Promise you glory and riches?"

"No, they did not," came another voice from above. Florianne was walking the upper balcony.

"Well, I'm glad we didn't place bets," Dorian said offhandedly.

"Inquisitor. I'm glad you came. I couldn't tell if you took the bait or not," she said, stalking the walkway like a caged lion, pacing back and forth.

"You mean your obvious trap?" Anders laughed. "We came prepared."

"Not prepared enough, I think."

While they spoke, Fenris kept his eyes on Danarius, who'd leaned in to speak with Hadriana, perhaps giving her instructions. She nodded, and their nearly identical grins unnerved him just a little. A few feet away, tied to scaffolding, was a man – the Fereldan who was shouting. Fenris took note of the area, the rift which was growing larger, and the Venatori who stepped in from the shadows. Danarius held up a hand to keep them in place for now.

"Do you honestly think Corypheus is going to share the world or the Fade with _any_ of you?" Anders snarled at Florianne's speech. "What exactly about him screams out, 'loyal and trustworthy' and 'always keeps his promises'?"

Florianne laughed. "Well, lucky for you, you won't be around long enough to see what happens. Magister, the ball, as they say, is in your court."

Danarius lowered his hand. Hawke and Fenris leapt forward as one, swords slashing, blocking the arrows that came at Anders. Anders immediately lifted his palm to close the rift, even as Hadriana fought to keep it open. Fenris lost sight of Danarius, needing to focus on the armed and armored soldiers trying to get at Anders.

"Watch his back!" Fenris shouted, and ducked a blow, taking the man down at the knees before rolling across the grass.

He jumped up, slashed with his left dagger and thrust with his right, satisfied with his ability to wield despite his lingering injury. He dodged another hit and used the momentum to barrel into Hadriana, ignoring the burst of pain through his nerves as he struck her magical shield. Lyrium brands like fire in his skin, he didn't stop, reversing his grip on his sword and bringing the pommel square into her face, breaking her nose. She screamed in pain and threw him off using a force spell to aid her. He flew five feet across the grass, slamming into a pillar, his back aching with the brunt of the impact. She stalked toward him, face covered in blood, her hands full of magical flames. Fenris lifted his arm to try to shield himself, feeling the heat getting closer when suddenly it was gone. He looked up. Hadriana's magic fizzled out, a look of shock on her face. A second later and she jerked forward as a sword pierced her breastbone. She opened her mouth, a dribble of blood escaping her lips, and she fell forward, sliding off the blade. Fenris got slowly to his feet, nodding to Hawke who looked murderous.

"Been practicing that ability with Cullen," he said, somewhat distastefully. "You all right?"

"Fine." Though he wasn't, he hurt, but the fight wasn't over.

Anders closed the rift, but was doing battle with another Venatori, staff against sword, and Hawke and Fenris raced to help him. With the death of the last Venatori soldier, the fighting was over, or at least they thought. The shouts of the tied up Fereldan echoed through the yard and Anders and Hawke moved to untie him. Fenris quickly looked around, searching for-

"Looking for me?"

Danarius stood on the balcony, and Fenris felt his heart drop into his stomach. He had Dorian in his clutches, one arm wrenched behind his back. Lightning crackled at Danarius's fingertips which touched Dorian's throat, causing him to jerk away in pain. Fenris tightened the grip on his swords, swallowing hard, not sure what to do.

"If you try anything, I will kill him," Danarius promised. "If you come after me, I consider his life forfeit. And the meantime, our plan to assassinate the empress will be completed, and the Elder One will take over through fear. Such a shame we won't be seeing you again, Fenris, but your lover will make a nice replacement."

Danarius pulled him out of sight, and Fenris looked at Anders, wide-eyed.

"Go!" Anders ordered. "We'll stop Florianne and send the others to help once we can."

Fenris didn't hesitate. He tossed his swords up to the balcony and followed, scaling a pillar, pulling himself up and over the railing. Collecting his weapons, he ran the length of the balcony and flung himself around the corner. The palace was almost silent, but he could hear Dorian's struggles, the sounds of his shouting, and followed them through the echoing corridors. He ran faster, his lungs aching for breath, but didn't stop. He kicked open a door and almost missed the glyph at his feet, leaping over a wall of flame that sprung up and would have surely roasted him alive.

He caught the edge of a grey robe whipping around a corner and followed, stopping when Danarius did. Danarius, sneering, turned to confront him. Blood trickled from Dorian's temple, one of Danarius's fingers pressed against the wound. He applied a bit of electricity and Dorian's body jerked and twitched and he cried out.

"Another step and I take his head," Danarius growled, the playfulness gone from his tone. His eyes narrowed, and Fenris could feel the utter hatred there. It was almost like a slap in the face. His former master finally showing his true colors, how he really felt.

"Let him go," Fenris said.

"Why would I do that? If nothing else, I can ransom him back to his father. Even maimed, he'd still fetch a good price."

"I'll take his place. Take me instead."

"Fenris!" Dorian hissed through gritted teeth. "AH!" Another jolt of electricity.

Danarius laughed. "No. I think we're past that point, aren't we, Fenris? You chose to leave. You don't get to choose to come back."

"As if you cared that I left," Fenris spat. "As if it mattered to you what happened to me! You only ever cared about the markings in my skin."

Danarius's face softened a fraction, but only for a second before the glare returned. "If that's what you believe, then so be it. What do you have that I could possibly want now in exchange for your lover?"

"Your life." But Fenris was bluffing. He had no idea how long it would take Anders to send reinforcements, or if reinforcements were even coming. If it was just a duel between himself and Danarius, he would bring him down or die fighting. But he couldn't let Danarius kill Dorian.

And Danarius knew he was simply talking. "Even if you used the markings that I gifted you, you wouldn't be fast enough. I would kill him before you could touch me." He slid the hand from Dorian's temple to his chest, fingers splayed over his heart. "Since I was always a kind master to you, I will let you say your goodbyes."

"Fenris…" Dorian managed, strained, looking as if he were about to fall over, limbs still twitching.

Another jolt of magic and Dorian's body shook, blood now dribbling from both nostrils. His legs came up off the ground, Danarius laughing as he forced him upright. Dorian stopped struggling, head falling limply forward, but he was still breathing, barely conscious. Fenris swallowed hard, and a movement in the rafters caught his eye. He barely glanced up as Danarius was getting Dorian back to his feet, and noticed the familiar floppy hat, the shining daggers. He looked back down at Danarius, feeling emboldened. Help had arrived. Cole could kill him easily, as Danarius hadn't noticed the spirit. Fenris knew this would mean giving up, that he wouldn't be the one to sink his hand into Danarius's chest and rip out his heart.

And suddenly he realized: he didn't need to be.

Dorian's life meant more than petty revenge. Death was death, and he would be glad to see Danarius put down. He didn't need to be the one to do it. So he nodded. Danarius was about to say something, perhaps to goad him into attacking, but suddenly his eyes widened. Fenris hadn't even heard Cole move, but saw the blood as Dorian dropped, no longer supported by Danarius. A crimson stain blossomed on Danarius's robe, growing slowly larger. The sound of a knife being pulled from flesh, and Danarius fell to the ground, dead. Cole stood motionless, dagger in hand, looking at it before sheathing them both.

"He hurt Dorian."

Fenris shoved Danarius's body away and knelt next to Dorian, pulling his head carefully up into his lap. "Dorian?"

"Fine," Dorian coughed, twitching a little. "Good job with the… killing him and not me," he added, looking at Cole and trying to smile. Only half his face responded, but Cole seemed pleased nonetheless.

Fenris pulled the peacock embroidered handkerchief from his pocket and wiped away the blood from Dorian's face. "You need a healer." He looked up at Cole. "Where are the others?"

"Fighting the Grand Duchess. Anders told me to come find you. He was distraught."

Distraught. That was a good word for it, if a bit of an understatement.

"Can you walk?" Fenris asked Dorian.

"Legs are a bit… huh. No. Not really listening to me," Dorian managed.

Internal damage to his nerves. Fenris wasn't a healer, but he'd been hit by electricity before, usually in his training. He only hoped the damage wasn't permanent. He pulled one of Dorian's arms around his shoulders, thankful when Cole took the other, and Dorian tried to help, but his legs were largely unresponsive. Fenris gave one last look to Danarius's corpse as they headed back to the ballroom, feeling coldly satisfied that he could finally close the door on that part of his life.


	16. Chapter 16

The empress would live.

Anders stopped the bleeding but only just in time, and she would need weeks of bed rest. Anders scandalized the nobles by turning the grand ballroom into a clinic, clearing off tables and pulling down drapes for bedding. Many of their soldiers were wounded, and he'd stripped his outer jacket, working in a simple plain white shirt with the sleeves rolled up as he healed Inquisition forces, chevaliers, and elven servants alike. Someone brought him lyrium, and he worked efficiently, giving orders to those who came to help. Fenris remembered belatedly that he'd run a clinic in Darktown in the sewers of Kirkwall, with likely less assistance and provisions.

Hawke was there, stripped of his finery as well, doing what he could. He even helped Fenris lift Dorian onto a table without complaint. While he bandaged wounds and distributed healing potions, he informed them about what happened.

"Florianne stabbed Celene in the back just as we got here. She saw us coming and ran, and Anders stayed to try to save Celene while the rest of us went after Florianne. She's dead now," he said with gruff satisfaction. "Never knew a noble who could fight that well. Except Cassandra and I don't think she counts."

Fenris looked over to Cassandra who was sitting with her leg propped up, a bandage wrapped around a wound in her thigh, giving a report to Cullen. She looked fine, as did the others, who were either speaking with one another or, like Sera, checking out what was left of the banquet. 

"And Gaspard?" Fenris asked.

"Think he was shocked by the whole damn thing. He promises he'll talk with Celene in the morning, and Briala went to her side. Probably a bit of reconciliation between all three of them. Whatever Gaspard and Celene are, they're family. Bet he feels guilty for the shit his sister pulled. Anders will have it sorted tomorrow. We'll stay at Gaspard's tonight and hopefully leave as soon as this mess gets untangled."

Then, incredulously, the orchestra started up the music once more. Nobles around them began to clap and cheer.

"Are they fucking serious?" Hawke looked over at Josephine, who was talking with the dowager.

Josephine saw the look, excused herself and came over, pulling Hawke away carefully. Fenris watched them have a heated argument, and it seemed that Hawke lost rather badly, as his glare only worsened. He stomped back over, looking like a storm cloud.

"Right now they need 'normality' and 'stability'." He spat the two words. "Bunch of bloody pricks."

Dorian groaned, opening his eyes, having quietly passed into unconsciousness sometime during the trip. Fenris laid a gentle hand on his forehead, and Hawke took that as his cue to leave to help others.

"Are you all right?" Dorian breathed, reaching for his hand.

Fenris took it, squeezed. "You get nearly electrocuted to death and ask me if I'm all right?"

"Color me sentimental. Bit of a love fool," Dorian groaned. "It hurts."

"It will for a bit. And you're still twitching a little," Fenris noticed, the tremors coming randomly now. "You're breathing. Anders' initial assessment is that you'll live."

"Will I? Oh good. I would rather hate dying. I'd miss all the fun. Is that music?"

"The ball must go on," Fenris said bitterly. "At least they won't dance near the triage area."

Dorian swallowed, licked his lips, and Fenris grabbed a wine glass from a servant's passing tray. He helped Dorian sit up and drink, and smoothed back his hair when he laid back down. Anders came over a moment later to check on them.

"Fenris said it was electricity, right?" he asked.

"Mm. Bastard had it right to my head and my heart," Dorian said, wincing as Anders touched the wound on his temple to heal it.

"Who brings a stethoscope to a ball?" Dorian asked as Anders pulled the odd looking instrument from around his neck.

Fenris had never seen one before, bits of metal and a rubber tube holding it together. Anders smirked and started unbuttoning Dorian's jacket.

"Oh do look away, Fenris. I think our Inquisitor is finally giving into my charms after all this time."

"I will put this cold metal on your bare skin if you don't be quiet," Anders said, though he was smiling.

"Kinky," was Dorian's last comment as Anders listened to his heartbeat.

"A little irregular," Anders assessed, frowning. "Once we're back at Skyhold I'll keep an eye on you. Do you still have feeling everywhere?"

"Well I'll need Fenris to assist me with the 'everywhere' bit, but for the most part, yes, yes I do, I think."

Anders scoffed. "You joke, but electrocution can have an adverse effect on sexual health."

 _That_ got Dorian's attention, and he looked at Fenris, wide-eyed and almost fearful. "Permanent?" he asked, looking back at Anders.

"Not usually, no. But I can recommend a potion if it becomes a problem."

Dorian groaned and muttered a curse in Tevene, lifting a shaking hand to his forehead. He sighed, dropping his arm, and looked at Fenris. "I guess we just have to make sure, yes?" he asked hopefully. "Try and try and try again?"

Anders grinned. "That's the spirit. Otherwise I recommend massage therapy to get the twitches out, and I'll mix up a couple of things back at Skyhold to aid with it. Until then, I think Cullen's got extra elfroot, so chew on a leaf until the pain subsides, all right?"

"Thousands of years of modern medicine and what do I get?" Dorian grumbled. "'Chew on a leaf!'"

"He means, 'Thank you'," Fenris said to Anders, who smiled and moved on to his other patients.

Fenris pulled over a chair and sat with Dorian, taking his hand again. He ran the other idly through Dorian's hair, thumb smoothing over his forehead. "You nearly died."

"'Nearly' being the key word. You'll find I'm still very much alive so do wipe that long look off your face. It's utterly depressing. What happened with the peace talks?"

Fenris shook his head. "It'll be worked out in the morning, I guess. Probably a sleepless night for Anders, but he looks… content right now."

Dorian looked over. Anders was walking between patients, talking to them, making sure they were comfortable, checking on wounds and redressing the ones that needed it. Cullen was supervising the carrying out of their soldiers that needed the help, and presumably sending most of them back to Skyhold.

"Shame we didn't get to dance," Dorian said wistfully. "Hang on." He pushed himself to a sitting position, and Fenris stood quickly. "Stop that. I'm not an invalid. Here. Support me. I'd like to go out to the veranda."

Fenris took his arm and they walked slowly outside. Away from the injured, and the crazy nobles who thought the remedy to this evening's tragedy was to effectively ignore it, it was almost peaceful. Dorian held his shoulders, moving a step away, and managed a clumsy bow.

"May I have this dance?" He smiled. "I wanted to ask out here so I wouldn't make a fool of myself. Normally I'm much more graceful."

Fenris sighed but took him around the waist, knowing that Dorian would have his way one way or another. Dorian moved closer, leaning on him as they swayed gently, his hands against Fenris's chest.

"I keep forgetting how strong you are," Dorian said. Most of his weight was on Fenris. "Are… you all right?"

Fenris closed his eyes, resting his head on Dorian's shoulder. There was residual pain, but nothing he couldn't handle. His back would be bruised, but Anders could fix that in a minute. But emotionally, he felt drained, and he gripped tightly to Dorian's coat.

"Fenris?"

"No," he muttered. "No. I'm not. But I will be. Hadriana and Danarius are dead, neither by my hand. But it doesn't matter. I… all I could think about was how I couldn't lose you."

"He'll never hurt you again, love."

Fenris shook his head. "He'll never hurt _you_ ," he said, looking up at him. "He'll never hurt you or Alexius or Felix. That's all that matters to me. I would have gone with him if it meant keeping you safe."

Dorian sighed. "Then _I_ would have to stage a daring rescue. And while I'm good at the whole knight in shining armor bit, I'm not sure it's a role for me."

"You are definitely better playing the distressed damsel," Fenris teased.

"Oh please. I dress much better than any damsel." He looked down at his opened coat, which was singed and blackened in places. "Usually."

Fenris laughed and hugged him tightly. Soon, he hoped. Soon they would kill Corypheus and put an end to the threat on the world. Then they could return to Tevinter, and work to change it, so that he and Dorian could continue to be together and happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At last, the end of Part 4! Hope you guys enjoyed it. Part 5 will start posting Sunday. I need a day to recuperate from all the other things I have going on. I have two projects currently in the works and a third that's a distant idea that I'm going to be outlining soon. So I'm taking a day to play mindless video games before I suffer extreme burn out from writing.
> 
> Thank you guys SO much for sticking with. Part 5 is about 25 chapters or so and I'm thinking it should be finished up by early April. In the meantime if you want more Dorian/Fenris stuff, check out the Modern AU I'm working on "As the Flames Go Higher" which should be posting weekly (every Wednesday or Thursday).
> 
> You guys are awesome. :)
> 
> Edited to add some lovely photo manip/art from lifeforce:
> 
> Thank you!


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